#I swear I’d be afraid to breathe around him and there would be a fee | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨3

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) sleep paralysis, stress.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m so happy people are liking this story. Thanks so much to everyone reading and sorry if I’m a bit inactive lately, I’ve been exhausted and yesterday didn’t end, I swear.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

On Monday, you yawned over your keyboard as your fingers moved on instinct alone. Your eyes ran along the text but the words were just letters to you. You had a lot to think about, a lot to do.

You decided you would skip lunch and get through your work day an hour early so you could head to Clark’s right away. He was hard to deny when he asked if you could make it back so soon. You told him you worked everyday from home and you had hours beside that at the gallery three times a week at least. He accepted it with a nod but his silence was telling so you caved and said you could make it but not until the evening.

You texted Marcus as you waited for your Uber. He had a few hours to go still and you left him everything he needed to make supper with instructions; the veggies were cut, the meat thawed, and the pans already arranged on the stove. You had faith he could manage on his own.

The mansion was just as intimidating as the first time you visited. You walked up the drive and to the front steps. It was human nature to be envious of the sprawling yards and lavish estate and yet, it didn’t feel as if someone could truly live here. It would be like staying in a hotel as you were always overly aware of your every move, afraid to break something or make a mess.

You hammered the large knocker when your soft tapping brought no answer. You heard someone on the other side and wiggled your foot nervously. The door opened and square-faced woman greeted you in another language. You couldn’t tell if it was Swedish, German, or some other dialect. You were never a skilled linguist.

“Um, hi, I’m…”

“Ah, you are the lady painter,” she said, “I remember. I am Nina, Mr. Kent’s housekeeper.”

She turned and beckoned you to follow her. You closed the tall door and trailed her across the spacious foyer and behind the stairs into the kitchen. She turned through another room and led you out through the glass doors that opened onto the pool.

“Miss, would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee?” she asked.

“No, thank you,” you said as the water moved and your eyes were drawn to the figure moving beneath the surface.

“Miss,” Nina nodded and left you.

You stood, awkward and listless, and glanced around at the loungers and the umbrella over the round table. You weren’t entirely sure what to do. Had he forgotten about you?

“Hey,” your gaze was drawn back to the pool. Clark waded to the edge, his broad shoulders and chiseled chest visible as he made his way to the shallow end, “sorry. Lost track of time.”

He grabbed the metal railing and climbed up the stairs. The water slaked off his tight trunks and down his thick thighs. He appeared even larger with less clothes. You looked away before your thoughts lingered too long.

“It’s fine, I should have texted I was on my way,” you said, “I can go wait for you--”

“No worries,” he took his towel and rubbed dry his dark hair. The scruff along his chin was thicker than before, almost a full blown beard, “you’re not in a hurry, are you?”

“No, not really, can’t really rush… painting,” you shrugged, “I just… I didn’t mean to catch you off-guard.”

“Pfft, I’m ready for anything,” he grinned, “but I should also listen to the artist. I’ll go get changed and you can get settled in the studio.” He directed you ahead of him as he approached the sliding doors, “you just finished work? You should take a few minutes to unwind.”

“Uh, yeah, but it’s just, um, typing, not exactly hard labour,” you said as he followed you inside.

“Work is work,” he said, “I will never fault anyone who works hard, regardless of what they do.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you stifled a yawn behind your hand.

He let out a breath as you came out into the foyer, “I’m sorry, you could’ve… you’re tired. We could have rescheduled. I’m sorry if I came across… pushy yesterday. I don’t mean to take advantage of you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assured him, “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” he said doubtfully, “but you let me know if you need a break.”

“Will do,” you murmured as you neared the stairs.

🎨

You weren’t even close to done just the background of the portrait. Clark really didn’t even need to be there as you shadowed the folds of the curtains around his figure and the marble bust. Your arm hurt from reaching across and up the gigantic canvas and your eyes burned from squinting at your work.

You backed off the ladder carefully with your paintbrush and palette balanced in one hand. The paint was drying and you needed to mix more. You set down your armful and wiped your hands on the rag. He was watching you, he was always watching you. Well, no, he was just looking in your direction; it was all for the portrait.

You hit the button on the side of your phone and gasped. It was midnight. You had several messages from Marcus and you blanched as you unlocked the cell and quickly texted back. You rubbed your eye as you hit send and turned to Clark.

“I didn’t realise it was so late,” you said, “I gotta go.”

“What time is it?” he asked and looked at his watch, “oh.”

He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and stretched out his arms as he neared. You took your brush and rinsed it in the tinted water in the jar.

“I’ll just clean up as I wait for an Uber,” you said as you let the brush rest in the jar and lifted your phone again.

“I’ll drive you,” he said as he grabbed a rag, “it’s a long way. I’ll hire a driver for you from here on out. It’ll be easier and cheaper.”

“You don’t have to--”

You flinched as he wiped your cheek with the rag. He smiled and showed you the paint on the white cloth.

“I wouldn’t offer it if it was too much trouble,” he tossed the rag down, “and I did have something to talk to you about. The drive will be more than enough to get it sorted.”

“Oh, okay,” you eked nervously. Had you done something wrong? Were you not painting fast enough?

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he touched your arm gently.

He left you and you finished scraping off the palette and cleaning your brushes. You dumped the jar in the sink just inside the nearest bathroom and rinsed the porcelain back to white. You left everything arranged neatly on the table and descended to the first floor.

Clark stood by the door in a different jacket, his tie gone and the top button undone. He held the door for you and showed you to the garage. There were at least a half-dozen cars inside and he took you to the same silver one he drove the night of the show. You settled in and groaned as the tension left your shoulders.

He started the car as the doors rose behind him and he backed out smoothly. He turned down the long drive and onto the desolate roads of the wealthy countryside. He kept one hand on the wheel and dropped his other to his thigh casually.

“So, your job, you like it?”

“It’s work,” you said, “I get paid to sit at home and type. Half the time, I’m just waiting for an assignment.”

“I asked if you liked it,” he said more pointedly.

“Oh, well, not… really?” you answered, unsure.

He could be so pleasant and then so blunt. He made you nervous and the more you thought of it, the more you realised you knew almost nothing about this man besides his name. You didn’t know how he made his money or what exactly he did outside of his extravagant mansion.

“If I doubled your fee, would you quit?” he asked without hesitation.

“Quit? This… the painting won’t take forever,” you said, “I can’t really just drop everything--”

“This is an opportunity,” he said, “you could spend your days doing what you love. And who’s to say it’s just one painting? I already have something in mind for the dining room and I have friends asking about you.”

“Friends? Who--”

“One thing at a time,” he said curtly, “I’ll introduce you to them in time. Is it a deal?”

“I… it’s all very sudden, can I think about it?”

He looked at you in the rearview and you caught his eye. For a moment, you were afraid. There was something in his expression that left you breathless. He lifted his hand and stretched his arm between the seats, his fingers gripped the leather just above your shoulder.

“Sure, I’ll give you a couple days,” he said at last.

“I--I’m sorry…” you didn’t know why you were apologizing but it felt appropriate, “I just, I’m tired.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” he assured and the epithet hung in the air.

“I have to go to the gallery tomorrow, I’ll get back to you on Wednesday,” you said as you rubbed your chin nervously. Your lips was quivering. He was smiling but you felt his impatience in the small space of the car, “if I… if I say yes, I have to talk to my boss and that might get messy.”

“No problem,” his voice softened, “you take some time and figure it out.” His thumb rubbed the leather seat and he pulled his arm away to grasp the steering wheel, “why don’t you close your eyes. We got some time left.”

You peeked over at him and nodded.

“Okay,” you murmured and hugged your bag against you as you tried to relax against the leather. You turned your head and looked out the window up at the starry sky. You closed your eyes as the fatigue settled over you but you could only fake dozing as your nerves stormed inside of you.

He was right, it was a great opportunity, but you just couldn’t believe it would last. Was it your own doubt getting to you? Or should you be weary of this fairytale buyer? It was late and you couldn’t think. All those worries could wait until tomorrow.

🎨

You crept into the dark apartment. It was after one and you foresaw a long day ahead of you. You’d get maybe four hours in before it all started again. You put your purse down and went into the bedroom, undressing in the shadows and crawling into bed next to Marcus as the colours of the tv moved around him. The playlist he was casting kept on even as he slept.

He grunted as you laid on your back and he turned to graze your arm with his fingertips.

“You’re home,” he grumbled and kissed your cheek, “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I… it’s so far out there and it’s a lot of work. The canvas is like nine feet-- I’m sorry, I’ll let you sleep.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” his voice was gristly as he propped himself up on his elbow, “you’re gonna finish the job right?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can,” Marcus insisted, “I mean, at that price, you can do anything.”

“It’s not about the money, Marcus,” you huffed, “I don’t know if it’s worth all this. Going back and forth…” you ran your hands over your face, “he wants me to quit my job and just paint for him.”

“You should,” Marcus said blithely, “why not? He’s paying you well enough.”

“And what about when I’m done,” you whined.

“You’ll find more work. Vanessa even offered to take on more of your work in her shows, so what’s the problem? Isn’t this what you want?”

“Y-yeah, it is but… I don’t know, it just seems too good to be true.”

“You do this and we might even have enough for a down payment,” he said, “something had to give after all these years. Why can’t it be this?”

You looked at him and tried to smile, “you’re only saying that because he has a pool.”

“Maybe,” he kidded, “but I also want it for you. You spend all your free time painting anyhow so why not get paid for it?”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, “yeah, I just don’t know why I feel so… I don’t know. It just all seems off.”

“Sleep on it, you’ll feel better,” he leaned over and kissed your lips that time, “love you.”

“Love you,” you echoed as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv.

You closed your eyes as the darkness shrouded you and despite your anxiety, you fell into a deep sleep. You didn’t even roll onto your side before you sank into your REM but found yourself caught in limbo. The abstract and intense sensation of paralysis overtook your body and your eyelids flicked open.

It was an awful feeling you knew too well. You knew you were dreaming, you knew it was all in your mind, but your body was filled with sand and your subconscious conjured visions of doom. The tall man stood by the door as he always did and just stared. He got closer, just a little at a time, and you fought to move just a finger and free yourself from the trance.

You felt like you were drowning as your body remained heavy and unmoving. He was getting closer and closer. As he did, his figure changed and his shoulders got wider as his features came clear in the slat of the streetlight that leaked between the curtains. It was Clark staring down at you, his blue eyes sinister and sparkling.

He reached for you and you woke with a start as your name rose from his lips. You inhaled sharply and looked over at Marcus as he snored. It was only the two of you. You reached for your phone, it was just after three. You turned onto your side but your heart still raced. It always happened when you were stressed, the dreams felt so real that you never really came back down after.

You stared at the wall and curled up under the blanket. You didn’t expect to get much sleep anyway, not with the question on your mind. Should you quit and live your dream or should you kill all hope before life did it for you?

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #superman #series #portrait of a dangerous man #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #mob au #mob!au #dc #dcu

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brelione · 4 years

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Feild Trip with a Rich Bitch (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Part Two

Mentions of drugs,Rafe being a bitch,swearing and blow torches :)

Also,Goddess Part Three will be up by Friday afternoon.If you would like to be tagged please let me know :)

He had always hated Pogues.Then he met you.

You worked at a car repair shop in The Cut.He had come in on his bike,well,he had walked the broken piece of shit to the shop.You were the only one working that day.He couldnt help but think you looked adorable with your long sleeve yellow shirt under dark blue overalls,a backwards red hat and at least six silver chains draped across your neck.You had been extremely focused,sitting indian style as you smoothed a weird bump on a car with a nail file. “So are you gonna stare at me or are you gonna tell me what youre doing here,pretty boy?”You asked,not taking your attention off the task at hand.He blinked,surprised by your carefree yet assertive tone. “Uhh...somethings wrong with my bike.”He mumbled,attempting to smooth out his hair.You let out a small laugh as you dragged a paint brush along the smooth metal,fixing the messy spot. “No shit.What’d you do to it?”You asked,spreading more paint across the metal.His face turned red as he glanced around the shop.

There were paintings across the walls,multiple tool boxes and a wall of paint swatches.There were six other cars parked,some of them with large dents,holes or scratches. “I drove it into a tree.”He mumbled.You nodded. “Magnificent job,pretty boy.How are you gonna have a bike as expensive as that one then drive it into a tree?”You asked.He just shrugged,hands in his pockets.You put your paintbrush down into a cup of water,pulling out a blowtorch from seemingly nowhere.The flame hovered above the paint,drying and hardening it.Once you were satisfied with the paint job you stood up,brushing off your pants.You still had the blowtorch in your hand,the potential weapon swinging next to your thigh as you walked towards Rafe. “You gotta put the kickstand down,pretty boy.”You reminded him,gesturing to the bike.He nodded. “Right.”He nodded,putting the kickstand down and turning the handlebars so it would lean on the metal rod.One of the tires seemed blown out,a straight hole through the seat and multiple scratches across the metal.He watched as you looked over it.

You pulled at one of your chains. “So are you going to tell me what actually happened?”You asked,crossing your arms over your chest.That caused him to look down at your chest and the bleach stains across the front of your overalls.You snapped your fingers to get his attention back to your eyes.He cleared his throat,looking back up at you. “So how much for the repairs?”He asked.You smirked. “Well...i’d say $150 but you’re an asshole so thats an additional $15 and you’re also ruining my day so that would be another $15.”You twirled one of your chains,looking into his blue eyes.He bit his tongue,glancing between you and his bike. “And whats the fee for you not to tell anyone youre keeping my bike here?”He asked.You ran the tip of your tongue along your teeth with a devil like smile.God,this boy had never been in this kind of situation before.You werent even gonna tell anyone in the first place.You could probably charge him hundreds of dollars for all the things he’s done and he wouldnt be able to do anything about it.You were the best repair woman on the island and anyone else would go straight to his dad.It was 11 in the morning.You had pulled an all nighter for the third time that week and you hadnt eaten yet.Plus,if you sent Rafe to the store he could buy the expensive shit.

“Theres a store three blocks away.Youre gonna go there and buy everything on the list and youre not gonna question it.”You told him.His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you take a notepad out of your pocket along with a pen,jotting things down.You tore the paper off,folding it and handing it to him.He took it,frowning and confused. “Hurry up.”You told him.He nodded,no words or sounds escaping his lips as he left the garage and made his way down the street.He knew what store you were talking about,the one with the sleeping cat outside.It was awfully quiet as he walked.Most of the time all the exciting things happened at night,not 11 in the morning.Either that or all the pogues were hiding from him,his gelled hair and his ugly ass khakis.He unfolded the piece of paper,reading it.Three large lemons,two large monster energy drinks,a bag of doritos and a pack of gum.It was a strange request but he wasnt supposed to question it.He had kept his head down at the store,grabbing three of the largest lemons he saw,two random monster energy drinks,the doritos and three packs of gum.

He didnt know what kind of gum you liked but you probably had to like one of the three,right?When he got back you were using your blowtorch on a part of the bike you had painted. “Put the bag on the work table and touch nothing.”You spoke loudly,confidently.He found your confidence unbelievably attractive.He never let anyone boss him around like this but ther was just something about you.You held some sort of power over other pogues,he could tell that much by the few boneyard parties he’d gone too.The others were attracted to you,some of them held their breath as you walked by,others just kept their distance.He didnt know where such nice chains had come from.They looked like they had weight,indicating that they were real.He had carefully walked over to your work table,seeing multiple small jars of paint,brushes,metal sheets,files,nails,screws and your cell phone.It was a pretty old model.He set the bag down on an empty spot,watching as a notification came across your phone.Eighteen days sober!Log this milestone.He frowned.Sober from what?

He shook it off,walking back around to where you were with his bike. “I was worried that you’d set my bike on fire or something.”He spoke quietly,trying to make conversation.You glared up at him,eyebrows casting shadows over your irises. “What?Cause im a dirty pogue?”You asked.He shook his head frantically. “Thats not what I meant I-”He began to explain himself but you cut him off. “So because im fixing your bike im different?”You asked.He sighed. “I just meant because of the blowtorch-Im sorry.”He mumbled.You stood up,blowtorch in hand. “Know your place,rich bitch.Your bike will be done by three,save yourself the embarrassment and go home to your mansion.”Your voice was dripping in venom,eyes narrowing.He gulped. “I cant go back home without my bike,my dad will kill me.”He mumbled,looking down at you.You smirked. “Good.”You replied before kneeling down again by the bike,getting back to work. “God,could you stop staring at me?Go sit somewhere or sue a tree or some shit.”You huffed.He almost tripped over his own feet,finding a chair and sitting down.He tapped his food on the ground anxiously. “So um...how long have you been fixing cars?”He asked.

You slammed the blow torch down on the concrete. “Could you shut the fuck up?Please?”You asked.He bit his lip. “I dont like the silence.”He replied. “And I dont like loud noises.”You answered. “What are you sober from?”He asked.You sat there for a moment,eyes locked on the ground.You slowly stood up,walking towards him. “You went on my phone?”You asked.His mouth went dry and he was lost for words. “Rafe.”You snarled.He looked back up at you,beads of sweat collecting at his hairline. “I-the notification-I just saw it and I just-God,im sorry (Y/N).”He sighed,looking away from you.Your hand reached up,gripping his jaw and making him look at you. “Didnt I tell you to shut the fuck up?”You asked.He looked away from you,only looking back when your grip tightened. “Yeah.”He muttered. “And you’re gonna be good and shut that pretty mouth of yours,right?”You asked,squeezing harder on his flesh.He hummed.

“Good.”You mumbled,taking your hand away and getting back to work.You could feel him staring at you,the way your fingers moved as you grabbed your tools.He understood now.He understood the pogues’ fear and admiration of you.He felt like one of them,caught up in your beauty and the way you carried yourself while simultaneously being slightly afraid of you.You walked past him,grabbing one of the monsters.You grabbed a knife from the table.He watched as you cut open the bottom of the energy drink and shot gunned it,wiping your mouth when you were done.You grabbed a lemon from the bag,cutting an end of it off.You pulled a container of a white powder,opening it and coating the lemon slice in it. “Dont stare at me like that.Its salt,nothing you can snort.”You grumbled,taking the slice out and placing it in your mouth.Your eyes didnt squint and your eyebrows didnt furrow at the taste. “You...you eat lemons in salt?”He asked.You pulled the lemon slice from your teeth,biting the salt coated fruit as it left your mouth.

“I do.”You replied. “It helps with cravings.”You finished your thought,going to fix the bike seat.Rafe had sat on his phone until one in the afternoon when he heard someone come in. “You havent answered your phone,thought you were dead or something.”A deep voice said.Rafe heard you giggle. “Only on the inside,sunshine.I’m busy with work right now,tell the others ill be around by seven.”He heard the tone of your voice.Friendly,happy and almost excited. “Alright.Did you eat today?”The voice asked. “I had a lemon slice,ive got some doritos so dont worry too much.I’ll see you later.”You had told your friend. “Alright,sounds like a plan.”THe boys voice said before leaving.Rafe watched as you rolled a tire inside,replacing the one he had destroyed.Once you had replaced it you went back to the bag of goodies,cutting open the other monster.You chugged it,sighing as you stared up at the ceiling. “Why do you hate me so much?”Rafe asked suddenly.A smile tugged at your lips.

“You beat up two of my boys,you come around starting shit and blaming it on us,you think youre just so fucking amazing when youre really just a bitch,you ran over my fucking mailbox,you drink and drive,you gave another one of my boys a fucking concussion and a scar and you wonder why I hate you?”You ranted,fists clenching.He just sat there,hands gripping the arms of the chair. “You just fuck things up.”You sighed.He licked his lips. “You sound like my dad.”He mumbled.You laughed. “Oh dont get me started on your dad.That bitch ruined my life.”You sighed,grabbing another lemon slice.He raised his eyebrows. “What?How?”He asked.You just giggled to yourself. “You really have no idea what your father has done to my family?No idea at all?”You asked.He shook his head.You just laughed again,the sound filling the air.It wasnt like the way you had giggled with your friend.It was empty and sarcastic,hiding anger that was building up inside of you. “You wanna go for a field trip,Rafe Cameron?”You asked.

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #pope heyward #sarah cameron #jj maybank #john b #drew starkey #obx #kiara carrera #rafe cameron x you

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katsukis-sad-angel · 5 years

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Aren’t We in a Relationship?

KATSUKI ANGST WEEOOO WEEOOOOO

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Katsuki doesn’t prioritize you first and you first and you sorta throw a tantrum

Contains: swearing, angst, consumption of alcohol

---------------------------

You sat at a table for two in a very expensive restaurant, staring out of the huge glass window waiting for your boyfriend.

Katsuki was a busy man.

As a budding pro hero, he had a lot on his plate, especially after starting up his own hero agency less than a month ago.

He never seemed to be around and it felt like you and your relationship were being pushed to the very bottom of his daily list.

This wasn’t the first date he had flaked out on and you feared it wouldn’t be the last either.

For the past 3 weeks, every evening you’d planned had ended up you eating alone in a restaurant or just going home because you felt like crying.

But this time, he'd promised.

“Don’t worry babe. I’ll be there. I promise.” He had said while clicking away at his Mac.

But here you were, sitting alone.

Since you had been absolutely positive he would come, you had gone out of your way to make yourself look irresistibly gorgeous, even to your critical eye.

A smoky eye shadow and black liner made your (e/c) orbs twinkle and the matte color of your lipstick made your lips look extra plush and kissable.

The tight black dress your friends had helped you choose hugged your curves and chest showing off your form, so Katsuki wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you.

All of this trouble and what was your payment?

A lonely table and stares from other customers, especially the men.

The young waiter slowly approached you once again.

“Ma’am? I’m afraid your date isn’t coming, which is a shame. It’s none of my business, but someone as beautiful as you deserves better. This isn’t the first time he hasn’t come if I’m not mistaken…” He said softly, clutching his pad of paper.

“He… promised…” You whispered, clenching your fists and continuing to peer out the window, hoping for some sign of that stupid black Mercedes he drove.

Not even the distant hum of a motor.

You sighed, trying not to cry.

With shaking hands, you reached for a wine menu and ordered the most expensive bottle on the list.

It was going on your boyfriend’s credit card so what did you care?

The wine came and you took a few sips.

Gross.

You glanced outside again.

No Mercedes-Benz with an angry buff pomeranian lad sitting in the driver seat.

Sighing, you ordered the bill, paid the fee and a nicely sized tip, and left.

----------------

Soon you entered your apartment.

The chill of its emptiness seemed to sink into your very bones as you pulled off your fur jacket and hung it up.

You trudged to the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror.

Besides the bloodshot eyes, you still looked good.

Katsuki hadn't been there to tell you though.

You bit your lip to keep it from trembling and washed the evening off, removing your dress and slipping into soft, cotton pajamas.

After brushing your teeth, you wrapped your shivering body in a fluffy purple robe and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

There he stood.

In his dumb costume, taking off his dumb mask, kicking off his dumb boots, and removing his dumb knee plates.

He seemed to feel your furious stare and turned to look.

“I can’t believe you,” You hissed in a choked whisper, “You promised you would come! But no! Of course not! Your fucking girlfriend isn’t as important as paperwork I guess.”

You felt like bursting into tears again, but you held them back with all of your willpower.

“You’re never home. You’re always out being someone else’s hero, you never text me, and you've already gone when I wake up! I wouldn’t call this a relationship, would you Katsuki?”

You tried to keep up the act but Katsuki could see you were tearing at the seams and you were about to burst into tears.

“Look, baby, I’m sorry. I couldn’t make it this ti-”

“There’s always some excuse!” You shrieked, stabbing one of your fingers to his chest, “And I’m not your ‘baby’ Katsuki. Plus what you call apologizing, is so fucking fake. If you managed to ‘make it’ to at least one of my plans, or actually cared that I exist, then I’d believe your apology. But this time… this time was different. You promised me you’d come. So, now I can’t even trust you. If you want to break up, now’s the time to do it.”

Katsuki tried to wrap you in a hug but you viciously slapped his hands away.

“The hell was that for?”

“Don’t touch me! In case your minuscule mind didn’t notice, we’re fighting.”

“No, you’re going ballistic because I didn’t go to dinner with your sorry ass.”

“You’re such a bitch. You’ll never be the number one hero.” You snorted, crossing your arms and turning your head, “I’d be better off with Deku or Kirishima.”

“You fucking slut, how many guys have fucked you while I was gone?”

“I guess you’ll never know, will you? If you were around, you’d be able to search the apartment and find out!”

“Why are you acting like this? Why the fuck are you being such an ass?”

His form, which was at least a foot taller than yours, towered over you, crimson orbs boiling with rage.

You looked up at him, holding the robe close about you and shaking, afraid you had cut a nerve.

Your fighting spirit was gone and in its place was sadness and fear.

He looked so angry.

His pale face was twisted up into such an enraged glare, it gave you chills.

You bit your lip.

Then you ran into the bedroom you shared, locked the door, and fell onto the bed with tears rolling down your cheeks.

And there you stayed.

-----------------------------

Bakugou POV

He blinked.

What the fuck had just happened?

He had walked in from work, tired and hungry, then, suddenly his precious girlfriend started screaming at him.

Why?

He picked up his phone and saw the calendar reminder on the small screen.

Date with (y/n)! Don’t be late! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

Cute.

Hold on...

Shit.

That was today?

He knew he hadn’t been the best boyfriend lately and now he had just witnessed his poor girl’s pent up anger flood out of her and now she was probably crying her eyes out in his bed, hugging his pillow and doubting her life choices.

When you’d said that thing about number one hero stuff and Deku and Shitty Hair, something just… exploded inside of him.

He felt bad.

He could hear your angry and dismal sobs through the door.

Sighing, he went to the door and knocked.

“Go away.” You sniffed, aggressively blowing your nose.

“Let me in babe.” He replied softly, pressing his cheek to the wood.

“I told *SNIFF* you not to call me that anymore.” You whimpered snatching up another kleenex.

He heard you heave a sigh, trying to calm down, but your breathing was uneven and you were obviously having trouble doing so.

“It’s my room too.”

“Not tonight it’s not. Go find someone better than me and sleep with them. You shouldn’t have a problem finding one. With your good looks, any girl will have you.”

Katsuki ‘tched’ and walked away.

You really didn’t trust him anymore.

Fine.

He’d make you come to him.

He moved to the thermostat on the wall and lowered the apartment temperature to 30 degrees. Then he gathered all of the blankets in the house and fell asleep on the couch.

----------------

Your POV

It was so cold.

A wave of cold air had woken you up in the middle of the night and now you were shivering so much you couldn’t fall back asleep.

Where were all the blankets?

In the closet outside the bedroom.

With your personal hot water bottle named Katsuki Bakugou that joined you every night at about 12 am, you never really needed too many blankets.

Well, now that he wasn’t here you were freezing your tits off.

Author: *from the distancE* it's colder than a witches tiT out there

You rolled out of bed and tiptoed into the living room to find Katsuki sprawled on the couch under mounds of blankets, snoring softly.

He looked warm.

You bit your lip.

You wanted to be warm too.

It looked like he’d taken all of the blankets.

But you were still mad at him.

You pivoted around and began walking back to bed.

A wave of chilly air rolled over your form.

That settled it.

Seconds later, you had burrowed into the warm mound and up against his chest.

Nice and warm.

“Thought you’d never come.” Came Katsuki’s low voice above you.

You had been caught.

Burying your face in his chest, you ‘hmphed’ and felt like crying again.

“It’s cold, stupid.”

“Is that right?” He grunted, turning over so his back was to you, “I didn’t notice.”

You pouted.

It was his fault for missing the date! Why were you the bad guy?

“Katsukiiii! I’m cooooold!” You whined, tugging at his shirt.

“What do you want me to do about it?” He muttered, crossing his arms.

Little did you know, but Katsuki was feeling chilly too.

He was being a stubborn shit though and didn’t want to admit that he was in the wrong.

He turned over to look at you again.

You lay on your back, hands slowly rubbing at your upper arms, a single tear dripping down your temple.

“Damn,” He whispered, “Alright, I’m sorry babe.”

A big warm hand was put on top of your head and it pulled you close so your body rested on top of his and your chin lay on his shoulder.

He hummed softly, rubbing your back, and kissing the back of your neck.

He sang to no particular tune, but it was sweet and alluring and soon you were calm.

Katsuki rubbed the back of your head, still humming softly, heating up his hands so you would cuddle closer.

“Don’t blame yourself.”

His voice was soft and low, so as not to startle you.

“I’ve been a bad boyfriend.”

He lay his warm hands on the small of your back.

“I’m sorry.”

You smiled.

All of your anger and misery had completely melted away.

“Go to sleep.” He whispered, adjusting the blankets around you.

HOT

NOT MY ART!!

#i seem to only write angst #wtf is my problem #my cat just bit me #ouch #bakugou #katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #angst #my hero academia #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #dontmesswiththenootnoot

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

The Softest Fire (Part 14)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 2710

Warnings: fighting, violence, wounds, torture, abuse

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo.

The next morning, bright and early, I left the castle, alone. This time, I didn't mind. I had plans that would require me to travel without a companion. Gellert may not want answers or retaliation for the spy in our ranks, but I felt like we did.

I made my way to a shop in town. The shop was known for custom items.

“What can I do for you, miss?” a gray haired man asked from behind the counter.

“I need a portkey, to Hogsmeade in London, immediately,” I informed, my tone serious and dire. “Thank you,” I tacked on with a silky smooth smile.

“Alright. There will be an extra charge for a rush order,” he said slowly, as if that would deter me.

“I can manage any extra fee,” I confirmed.

He nodded and went away to the back to grab an item. “Will any item do?” he called up front.

“Yes! The smaller the better though!”

After five minutes, he returned with a glass orb, nothing special about it. It was a small, clear orb, small enough to slip into a purse.

“This do ya?”

“Perfect.”

He charmed it and handed it to me, ringing it up. The price was heftier than expected, but I needed to do this. I left as just as the sun had finished rising over the horizon. I knew Gellert said I didn’t need to do more, but this felt right. At the very least, I could get Albus Dumbledore to listen to me. I could throw him our pitch. A man of his talents, his wisdom, he would be all we needed to unlock this world.

He and I got along famously when I was a student, often providing me private study lessons, mainly because the material in class was so far behind me. He taught me advanced lessons and we became friends, I felt. Perhaps he would listen to me.

I arrived at Hogsmeade and made haste to get to the entrance of the school. Once I landed there, I breathed in the air, remembering how much I loved it here. I walked up the steep hill to the entrance, greeted by a groundskeeper who asked what my business was. He clearly didn’t recognize me, because he didn’t say my name. I wondered if this was a good thing. Once I told him I was here to see Professor Dumbledore, he gave me a suspicious look but let me by. I bobbed my head and walked past him and up the stairs to the last office I knew Dumbledore to keep.

I was in luck when I found his classroom empty, and him behind the desk.

“Professor?” I softly said, my voice almost going childlike. Funny how old habits are hard to kick. I was a grown woman now, about to be a bride, and here I was, speaking to Professor Dumbledore as if he still held some power over my head.

His back was to me when I opened the door. He was speaking softly before he stopped quickly. “Yes?” he asked before turning around. When he did, though, his eyes went wide before a soft smile pulled at his lips. “Rosaline Vaughan, is that you?” he questioned before standing to round the desk.

I fully entered the room, closing the door behind me as I did so. “It’s me,” I assured with a grin. I wasn’t here on bad terms, contrary to what it might’ve looked like on the outside. Yes, a spy was sent to us. Yes, Dumbledore betrayed Gellert, but something in me kept me from being furious with him. He was as old a friend as any of mine, and this was nothing more than a causal social call.

“You… you’re all grown up,” he stated with mystified eyes.

I nodded.

“Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he questioned quickly, still grinning, warmth radiating off of him.

“I thought I would just… come and see you,” I half lied, feeling bad for it. “Actually,” I began again, already correcting it, “I know about Joshua, the spy,” I admitted.

He bobbed his head, his jaw opening to speak but then he snapped it shut.

“It was clever. I’m afraid Gellert was a bit privy to it, though,” I informed, no malice or threat in my voice.

“So you’re here to… what? Exact revenge?”

“I take it you know about the engagement?” I wondered.

At this, he turned and began slowly walking back to his desk. I followed.

“I do,” he admitted. “I can honestly say I’m surprised. You and Grindelwald… He’s older than you. He’s my age,” he stated, as if I didn’t know. He reached his desk, leaning on it, his hands gripping the edges.

“Yes, I know,” I responded with a gentle smile.

“I’m not your father, I can’t and won’t judge you for your choice of companion. But I must admit I was shocked when I read the announcement in the paper.”

I laughed lightly. Of course he would. “I… I don’t know what to say except I love him and he shows me care and concern that most people have failed at.”

“A word of advice?” he suddenly offered, leaning forward a bit, peering at me.

I bobbed my head.

“He does that. He targets weak spots for people, and nurtures them. I know you’re smart. Clever. I know you would see past any sort of manipulation.”

My throat became tight as I peered at him.

“However, if this is real, then I wish you all the happiness in the world,” he assured with a star-studded smile.

“Thank you.”

“Is it just you then? Grindelwald isn’t with you?”

I shook my head. “No, no he isn’t. He doesn’t even know I’m here. I wanted to see you on my own.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, for one, to discuss why you sent a snitch our way. Secondly, to discuss you joining us.”

His eyes blew wide as he leaned farther forward, a disbelieving laugh escaping him.

“You can’t be serious. Me? Join Grindelwald?”

I peered at him, my expression entirely serious. “Why not?” I went to lean on the desk beside him. “Come on, Professor. With your wisdom, your power, your talent… Next to Gellert and I, we will rule this world.”

“Is that what you’re after now? When I taught you, all you wanted to do was make the world a better place. Did he change that?”

“I still do want to make the world a better place,” I retorted, my voice hard.

“By killing hundreds of our own kind?” he remarked incredulously.

“We want peace, that’s all. We don’t want to hurt wizards, witches, or muggles. You don’t understand what he wants. You’ve been misinformed,” I tried with my usual sugary voice.

He shoved off the table. “Rosaline, I know him. I know him better than anyone else in the world. He is using you. He is manipulating you. What Gellert Grindelwald wants and what I want are two vastly different things.”

“Don’t you want to come out of hiding?” I implored. “Instead of being holed up inside this school? You could be so much more. You are so much more. You possess greatness, and you’re squandering it.”

“Is that how you felt when you left the Ministry?” he fired at me.

“You kept tabs on me?”

“Of course. My brightest student? The only one who could out-duel me? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Afraid I’d turn dark?”

“No, I wanted to see how you would take your power and make this world better. When you were running for office, I was proud of you.”

“And when I left?”

A subdued smile came over his face before he looked down at the floor, then back up at me. “Even prouder. I heard you went to work with Newt, to help with his creatures. I knew you would do splendidly.”

I couldn’t help the blush that rose to my cheeks. “Thank you, Professor. That means a great deal to me,” I admitted. “But I take it from your distaste for our cause, that you won’t be joining us?”

With his hands in his pockets, he peered up at me. “No, Rosaline, I can’t.”

“Are you sure though?” I stressed. “Imagine a world where we are rightfully at the top of the food chain, where we belong, where you belong. You, out of everyone should know the frustration of hiding.”

“It does not bother me one bit to live where muggles don’t know we exist. It’s easier this way, Rosaline, you know that. You know if we became common knowledge it would be utter chaos.”

“Would it though?” I challenged. “Think about if we got the muggles… in their place, so to speak.”

“Rosaline--”

At that moment, the door flew open, where Gellert stormed in, his dark coat flying around him. He was flanked by two people -- Vinda and Abernathy. His face was the fiercest, most dangerous I’d ever seen. His stormy eyes found mine quickly and a boulder of guilt formed in my gut.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded in a chilled tone.

I was too scared to answer. I knew how this looked, and I knew it looked bad.

“Answer me, Rosaline!” he barked and I complied.

“I came to see Dumbledore to talk to him about the spy and about recruiting him.”

His eyes flashed from mine to the man behind me. “You will do no such thing,” he ordered and my head hung.

“Yes, Gellert,” I acquiesced in a hushed tone.

Gellert made his way over to me quickly, grabbing my upper arm roughly. “You will never leave the castle unattended again. Is that understood? I had no idea where you were, if you were hurt. You had me worried sick.” With that, he tugged on my arm, making me stumble forward to keep up with his long strides.

“Grindelwald, don’t hurt her! We were only talking!” Dumbledore called after him, taking a few strides forward, readying himself to protect me.

“I will deal with you when I’m done with her,” he called over his shoulder. “I can’t believe I find you here, consorting with my enemy, our enemy, after he sent a spy--”

“I was trying to find out about the spy,” I informed as he pulled me along. “I wasn’t here to betray you, my beloved, I swear. I was just talking with him.”

“You expect me to believe that, after the conversation we had two nights ago?” he challenged lightly once he stopped, standing near Vinda and Abernathy. “You could’ve very well risked our entire--”

Out of nowhere, a group of people barged into the room. Nora, Newt, Theseus, Tina, and two other aurors I did not recognize.

“Nora?” I breathed in shock as I stared at her.

Her eyes went straight to me, and Gellert’s hand on my arm. He immediately let me go and then smirked. Nora’s eyes flashed with fury, drawing her wand. Before I could think, my wand was out like a reflex. She shot a jinx at Gellert and I deflected it. Her expression morphed into utter shock.

“Rosaline, I don’t want to hurt you. Come with us,” she encouraged, glancing to Gellert beside me.

“No,” I said defiantly, lifting my chin as I stood my ground. “I’m staying here.”

“You don’t want to stay here. I don’t know what he’s done to you but the Rosaline I know would never be with a man like him,” she urged.

Gellert smiled at my side, speaking to my cousin. “You see, Ms. Vaughan? Rosaline chooses us. Now, can’t you respect that choice?”

As if someone lit a fuse in her, she snapped, trying to throw a spell towards Gellert but I moved in front of him protectively, deflecting the spell. My veins were lit with fire, my face a mask of beautiful rage.

In the blink of an eye, I lifted my wand again and tried to stun her but she deflected it. She shot a slicing spell back at me, but I dodged it. Three more shots flew between us before she suddenly retrained her sights.

Gellert smirked from behind me, pulling my long blonde locks behind my shoulder as he bent down slightly, his lips pressed to my ear. His eyes were locked forward on my opponents when he said, “End them.”

I nodded, understanding the command completely, and I unleashed an onslaught of spells and charms within seconds. I disarmed the unknown men first, knocking their wands across the room. My sights were now set on Tina, throwing an “Expulso” her way quickly, sending her flying into the brick wall. She fell to the floor in a moaning heap. For some reason, this gave me immense pleasure.

Theseus and Newt tried to throw a paralytic and expelliarmus charm my way, but I danced effortlessly away from them before sending Everte Statum at Theseus. He fell back and gripped his chest, pain lancing through him.

Now it was down to Nora and Newt.

The entire time, Gellert and my friends watched on in adoration, not lifting a finger to help, because I didn’t need it.

“What’s the matter, Scamander?” Gellert began to tease Newt. “You had the power to reveal me, but not to attack the woman whose heart you broke?”

Newt said nothing, his wand drawn. He seemed torn, unsure what to say or do.

“I let you live last time, this time your outcome won’t be as fortunate,” he informed as he took a step around me and raised his wand. My gut involuntarily lurched as I watched him inflict a Crucio curse on him. Newt fell to the floor immediately, screaming from agony. I couldn’t watch. For the life of me, I didn’t know why. What could I possibly feel for this man that would make me unable to watch?

“Grindelwald, that’s enough!” Dumbledore shouted as he raced forward and stood in front of Gellert. “Stop it! You’ll kill him!” He shoved his hands in his chest, breaking the focus and his spell.

“They’ve stopped me for the last time, Albus,” he informed darkly, getting nose to nose with Dumbledore.

As if I were in a daze, I didn’t notice how Vinda and Abernathy tried to fight Nora, Theseus, and Tina who had all recovered from their wounds. Newt was still on the floor, gasping for air. My eyes only watched Gellert who was speaking in hushed, angry tones to Dumbledore. Magic, spells, jinxes flew across the classroom, lighting it up before suddenly I looked up and I was surrounded. I raised my wand, still in a daze, moving automatically, without thought. That was my downfall, because Nora disarmed me, rather easily. I’d never been disarmed during a duel.

Nora threw a Confundo charm at Vinda and Abernathy, making them stop their onslaught completely.

“Go! Go now!” Dumbledore pressed. “Get to my office!”

My arms were being grabbed by Theseus and Newt to be forced into the office. Nora slammed the door behind all of us and locked it before we heard shouting. I heard Gellert trying to spell the door open, and suddenly I snapped out of whatever I was doing.

“What the… Let me go!” I screamed, fighting them. I went to aim my wand, only to find my wand was no longer in my hand. My frenzied eyes searched the room, and saw Tina had it. I clawed and fought my two captors. “Gellert!” I screamed as loud as my voice would go. “Unhand me!” I shouted, fighting until Nora finally turned and charmed me.

“Immobulus,” she firmly stated.

My body and mouth instantly stopped moving, but inside I was still thrashing around in my head.

Nora looked to the fireplace and inspected it. Meanwhile outside, the shouts and the attempts at the door had seemed to stop, making me worry for Gellert.

“It’s connected to the floo network,” she informed.

“Do we use that?” Theseus questioned.

“What choice do we have?”

“Right.”

With that, Nora charmed me once more with “Mobilicorpus” and she put me in the fireplace next to her. She grabbed my hand, and said her address loud and clear, and we were off, down the floo network.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#the softest fire #newt scamander x ofc #newt scamander fic #newt scamander #newt scamander x oc

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winchester-fantasies · 5 years

Text

Just a Taste

Summary: You want this Halloween to go down in the books as one of your favorites. And you’re about to find out just how epic it can be. (Halloween Special 2019).

Word Count: 3851

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, swearing, jealous Dean & possessive Dean (two of my favorite warnings! lol)

Pairing: Dean x Plus Size Reader

A/N: Happy Halloween! 🎃 Hope you enjoy!!

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

You huffed as you surveyed yourself in the mirror. It was Halloween, and although Sam had outright refused, you had finally convinced Dean to accompany you to the party right up the road at the small convention center.

Dean had adamantly declined your suggestion of wearing a costume, but you were determined to go all out and make this Halloween go down as one of your favorites. You'd ordered a costume off of Amazon, but as you surveyed yourself, you half-regretted your decision.

The sheer material of the bodice clung to your waist, accentuating not only your curves but the extra roll under your bra line, too. Your breasts were pronounced, the tops peeking out from the costume's neckline and jiggling every time you moved.

You put your hands on your hips, turning slightly to get a better view of your backside. You groaned. The hem of the skirt was almost obscenely short. Thank Chuck you'd decided to wear stockings, otherwise everybody and their mother would have an eyeful of your womanhood. Online it was described as being a sexy clown costume, but with the way it fit you, you thought slutty clown more appropriate.

You sighed heavily as you went back to doing your makeup. Maybe if you did your makeup really well it would take attention away from the ill-fitting costume. You knew that was only wishful thinking as you leaned over the sink. Your breasts shifted just right, the left one nearly popping out of its restraint. You quickly righted, stuffing it back down and adjusting your top. You silently cursed and made a mental note to never purchase a costume from Amazon again.

With your makeup complete, you took one final look at yourself. You still didn't like what you saw, but it was too late to turn back now. You'd just have to make the best of it. You drew in a deep breath to steel yourself before you walked out into the main room of the motel.

Sam glanced up from his laptop, and he blanched. "Hey, Sam," you said nonchalantly.

You sauntered over to the table, and Sam tensed, pushing back in his chair slightly. "You take one more step, (Y/N), and I swear to God..." Sam warned, pointing a threatening finger in your direction.

You ignored his warning and instead closed the gap between you. You wrapped your arms around him from behind, your chin resting on his broad shoulder. You couldn't stifle a chuckle as his breathing grew heavier.

You knew it wasn't necessarily the nicest thing to tease him when you knew he was deathly afraid of clowns, but you just couldn't help yourself. He was like the brother you never had, and you both were always joking or playing good-natured pranks on one another.

"You know I'd never hurt you, Sammy," you playfully crooned. He flinched at your words, and you couldn't resist planting a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Hey, (Y/N).... Whoa!" Dean said, stopping in his tracks as he walked through the door and stared at you leaning over his brother. "Am I...interrupting something?"

You chuckled as you straightened. You shook your head and wiped the remnants of your makeup off Sam's face. "No," you said. "Just having a bit of fun."

"More like fucking torture," Sam grumbled.

You chuckled as you grabbed your bag from the table beside your bed. "You know you love me, Sammy," you said. Sam just rolled his eyes.

"You sure you still want to go to this party?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, of course," you said. "Why wouldn't I?" you asked with a frown.

"It's just..." he trailed off, his eyes studying your outfit skeptically. His critical gaze hurt, but you tried to hide it.

"I don't care where you guys go," Sam interjected. "Just so long as you get her the fuck away from me!" He shivered in disgust, and you couldn't help laughing.

**********

"So where is this party anyway?" Dean asked as he pulled out onto the highway.

"Google says it's in a convention center a couple blocks from the motel," you said, checking the address on your phone.

"Convention center?" Dean asked incredulously. "So what? It's gonna be some fancy-schmancy shindig?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, Dean," you said. "It's not a 'fancy-schmancy shindig'. It's just a little party with food and dancing."

"Dancing? Really?" Dean asked, his voice rising in pitch.

"Look, Dean," you snapped. "I know Halloween isn't exactly your thing, but you're the one who decided to come."

"Me?" Dean bellowed, his eyebrows shooting up. "You practically forced my hand!"

"Then why didn't you just say you didn't want to come?" you asked, throwing your hands in the air.

"Because," Dean shouted, "you wanted to go!"

Silence fell over the Impala. You drew in a breath as you tried to regain your composure. "You're impossible," you muttered, running your middle finger and thumb over your eyelids and pinching the bridge of your nose.

Dean sighed heavily. "Look, (Y/N)," he said, his voice softer. "I just don't understand why you want to go to some party where people are dressed up as the monsters we hunt everyday. I mean, our lives are basically Halloween on steroids."

"I just wanted to celebrate, that's all," you grumbled, crossing your arms.

"We celebrate Halloween at the bunker every year," Dean pointed out. "Why couldn't we just stick to tradition?"

"I don't know, Dean," you clipped. "I just wanted to do something different."

"Whatever," Dean huffed with a roll of his eyes.

"Can you at least try?" you asked. "You don't have to dance or mingle or anything else. But just try to have fun," you implored. "Please."

Dean drew in a breath. "Fine," he grumbled.

You sighed and turned towards the window, looking at the passing scenery disappearing in the waning light. This wasn't how you'd envisioned the night going at all.

**********

Loud music drifted outside as Dean parked the Impala. Your heels clicked on the asphalt, tension still pervading the air. You shivered as a brisk breeze flew around you, only adding to your discomfort.

Dean held the door open for you once you reached the entrance. The music was even louder inside, the sounds of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" reverberating around you. You and Dean paid the $5.00 fee before walking into the auditorium.

The smell of sweat and stale beer filled the air. Despite the small room, at least two hundred people crowded the space.

"I thought you said it was gonna be small," Dean said loudly, surveying the throng of people lining every wall.

"I thought it was going to be," you shrugged. "Let's go find a table," you hollered above the music.

Dean nodded as you led the way. You wove through the crowd, your shoulders bumping into several people along the way. You hated crowds, and you were on high alert. You sighed in relief once you came to the far wall.

You found a vacant table, and Dean sat down. "You want a drink?" you yelled. Dean nodded, and you returned his nod.

You made your way back through the crowd. The refreshment table was right in front of the DJ, and you thought whoever came up with the floor plans for tonight's party had to be one of the worst party planners. The music blared right in your ear, almost painfully.

You took up two Solo cups, filling one with beer from a keg for Dean and the other with spiked punch.

"Hey," a voice said, and if it hadn't been for the slow song that started playing, you wouldn't have even heard it.

You looked up to find a man standing beside you. He was tall - at least Sammy's height. His dark hair was slicked back, and his blue eyes glowed in the dim lighting.

"Hey, Dracula," you said, surveying his tux and black cape. He grinned, revealing a set of fake vampire teeth.

"I vant to suck your blood," he said, in his best Transylvanian accent.

You rolled your eyes at the cliché but grinned nevertheless. The man chuckled at your reaction before extending his hand. "Josh," he introduced himself.

"(Y/N)," you said, setting down one of the cups and taking his hand. His hands were soft and uncalloused. So different from the hands of a hunter. But his handshake was firm.

"You here with someone, (Y/N)?" he asked, looking between the two cups.

"Yeah," you nodded. "My friend," you said, picking up a couple bags of M&Ms and tucking them under your arm.

"Want help with that?" Josh asked as you took the cup from the table.

"Nah, I got it," you said. "But thanks for the offer."

Josh smiled. "See you around?" he asked hopefully.

"Maybe," you said with a coy smirk. You turned and walked away, swaying your hips a little more than necessary.

"What took you so long?" Dean asked grumpily as you set his beer in front of him.

"You're welcome," you said sarcastically, tossing the bag of M&Ms at him. He jumped back in his chair as his hands fumbled to catch the bag. The candy landed at his feet, and he groaned in irritation as he stooped to pick it up.

You tsked. "Better watch it, Winchester. Your hunter reflexes are getting a little rusty," you teased.

Dean shot you a glare as he straightened in his seat. You laughed before taking a sip of your punch. You scrunched your face up as the liquid burned down your throat. Whoever made the punch didn't know the proper ratio of punch to rum.

"I met someone," you said nonchalantly, looking out at the dancers.

When Dean didn't respond you looked at him. His face was blank and unreadable. "Oh, yeah?" he asked.

"Yep," you said. "Name's Josh. And he's really fucking hot," you said with a grin.

Dean chuckled and took a sip of his beer. "I'm thinking if I play my cards right, I might just get some tonight," you said, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. "Chuck knows I haven't gotten any lately," you muttered, popping two M&Ms into your mouth.

But as the night wore on, you began to think the entire idea of going out tonight was a total bust. You had gotten up a few times to refill yours and Dean's drinks, but other than that nothing happened. You thought you'd never had a more boring and uneventful night. Dean outright refused to get up from the table, and the harder you searched, the more you were sure Josh had already left.

You were just about to call it a night when you felt someone tap your shoulder. You looked up to find Josh, wearing a wide grin.

“Hey,” you said, smiling. “I thought you already left.”

“How could I leave without a dance from a beautiful girl?” he asked with a wink, and your stomach flipped.

Dean cleared his throat, and you turned to find him looking between you and Josh. He raised his eyebrows, sending you a pointed look.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you said. “Dean, this is Josh. Josh, my friend, Dean,” you introduced, gesturing between the two.

“Hey, man. Nice to meet you,” Josh said, extending his hand.

Dean paused for a moment, staring at his outstretched arm. But finally he reached out and shook it. His face was undecipherable, and you weren’t quite sure why he was acting like he didn’t even want to acknowledge Josh.

You mentally shrugged it off as Josh extended his hand to you. “So...you want to dance?”

“Okay,” you said shyly. You took his hand as he helped you from your chair and led you to the dance floor. The soft notes of “Witchcraft” by Frank Sinatra started up. You wrapped your arms around Josh’s neck as he snaked his around your waist.

“So…” Josh said awkwardly.

“So?” you asked with a grin.

Josh chuckled. “Umm…. What do you do?”

“What do I do as in...work?” you asked, cocking your head.

“Yeah,” Josh nodded.

“I’m a historian,” you said. Not exactly a lie. You were practically a historian with the amount of research hunting required.

Josh’s eyes lit up in interest. “Oh, really? What field?”

“Mostly lore and mythology,” you shrugged.

“Oh, wow,” he said. “Sounds intriguing.”

“It is,” you said.

Josh looked at you slyly. “So you know any lore on vampires?” he asked, baring his plastic fangs.

You chuckled. “Oh, I could tell you lots,” you said.

“And how do I fit the bill? Am I authentic and scary enough?” he asked good-naturedly. You had to hold back a laugh. If only he could see the real deal. He’d be scarred for life.

“Eh…” you said, rocking your hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. “More like rinky-dink, Hollywood version,” you said playfully.

Josh’s face fell in mock hurt, and he grasped his chest. “Way to shoot down a guy’s ego,” he said with a chuckle.

“Hey, but you’re still a cute Dracula,” you flirted.

Josh cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?” he asked suggestively. You bit your lower lip and nodded. He drew in a deep breath as his arms tightened around you, and his hands slid lower on your back. “Well, I happen to think you’re the sexiest clown I’ve ever seen,” he said, his mouth only inches from your own. You could smell the remnants of rum on his breath as you closed your eyes, waiting for the press of his lips on yours.

You yelped as you were roughly jerked out of Josh’s arms just as “Monster Mash” came through the speakers. “Ow!” you exclaimed, as the fingers around your bicep tightened.

“What the fuck, Dean?” you shrieked, turning to find him behind you. His face was hard, and his eyes were dark with something you couldn’t quite place.

Dean didn’t reply, instead whirling around and dragging you behind him, Josh’s feeble attempt at a threat echoing after you. Dean stalked through the crowd, curses and loud groans falling around you as he all but shoved people out of his way. He flung the doors open with force and veered to the left.

You stumbled after him, your ankles twisting a couple of times as you fought to keep up with him in your heels. He dragged you around the side of the building into nothing more than an alleyway. He was breathing heavily as he shoved you against the wall, the cold brick hitting your back.

He put both hands on either side of you, caging you in. His face was hard, and even in the dim light of the streetlight, you could see lust emanating from his eyes as he leered, his gaze sweeping over you.

You shivered as a wave of unexpected arousal washed over you. “Wh...what the fuck, Dean?” you asked again, this time your voice a tiny whisper.

Dean leaned forward, his nose nestling into your hair. He drew in a deep breath and growled in admiration. “Do you even know how hard tonight’s been for me?” he asked.

“I...I know it’s been hard for you,” you stammered. “I’m sorry I dragged you here, and it won’t happen aga….”

“No!” Dean barked. You jumped as one of his hands smacked the brick next to you. “I’m not talking about that,” he growled. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin. You fought against the moan that threatened to escape as your stomach tightened with desire.

“What I mean is…” Dean panted. “Fuck, (Y/N), this boner has been so damn hard to conceal. Why do you think I never left the table?” he asked, his voice deep.

“Wh...what are you talking about?” you gasped. His hands fell to your hips, and he jerked you towards him. You could feel his bulge against your hip as he lightly rutted against you.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” he asked. “This is all your doing. This is what you do to me,” he groaned as his movements stuttered at the friction.

You were shocked into silence. How had you come to the party with your best friend but left it, pressed against a wall by the man you had hopelessly pined over for the last five years?

“Fuck, baby, when I saw you all dressed up like this, it took everything in me not to rip right off you. So fucking sexy,” he growled. His hands were now roaming freely, caressing your curves, fondling your breasts, kneading your thighs. His hands came behind you and grabbed your ass in both of his hands, digging his fingers into the meaty flesh. You gasped, and your hands flew around his shoulders, holding him tight against you.

“Shit, (Y/N),” Dean breathed. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you, taste you....feel you from the inside,” he rasped.

“Dean,” you moaned, your hands sliding from his back to the base of his skull. You weaved your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. A low groan escaped his mouth as he found the juncture of your neck and collarbone, lightly nipping at the sensitive skin.

“I was willing to let a little innocent flirting slide,” he said, pulling away. “But when that asshat laid his hands on you, that was an immediate deal breaker.”

“Dean,” you moaned again, this time louder.

“I want you to know…. After tonight, I’m gonna be the only one whose touch you crave,” Dean growled before burying his face into the soft and plump flesh of your breasts.

“Dammit, Dean!” you snapped. “Fucking take me already!”

Dean leaned back, a cocky smirk crossing his lips. “Your wish is my command,” he said. He slid down your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses across your torso, his warm breath steaming your skin through the filmy fabric of your costume.

He knelt on his knees in front of you. He looked up at you with hooded eyes before lifting your leg and throwing it over his shoulder. He pushed your panties to the side, and he growled in appreciation as your wet folds glistened in the streetlight.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Already so fucking wet.”

You whimpered as he leaned forward, his warm breath fanning across your core. “All I could think about tonight is how fucking good you must taste,” he said.

Your breath hitched and you leaned your head against the wall as his tongue slid through your folds. “Mmm,” Dean groaned. “I was right. Your pussy is fucking intoxicating.”

You moaned as he dove back in, his tongue pulsating over your clit. Your hands flew to the back of his head as he moved it around, his scruff shooting electricity through your core.

You gripped the wall, bits of mortar cramming underneath your fingernails as you clawed at the bricks. “Dean…. So...close,” you breathed, barely able to speak past the pleasure.

Dean abruptly switched his tactics, licking around your vulva. He inserted two fingers into you, and you nearly lost it. His movements were steady and unhurried, dragging out the pleasure, building you up to the grand finale.

His fingers pumped into you, the wet sounds of your dripping core mingling with your soft moans. You heard voices around the corner, but you didn’t care if you were caught. You were already too far gone.

Dean crooked his fingers, the rough pads of his fingertips meeting your sweet spot. Dean suddenly straightened, his face burying into the crook of your neck. “C’mon, baby,” he whispered. “Cum for me. Wanna feel your walls clench around my fingers.”

With that you came, your walls clamping down with a force they never had before. A deep moan escaped your throat, and Dean swallowed it as his mouth found yours, the sweet taste of you still on his tongue.

“Damn, Dean,” you chuckled breathlessly once he had disengaged his fingers. You wiped your sweaty brow with the the back of your hand, your now ruined clown makeup rubbing off.

Dean chuckled. He leaned forward, capturing your lips into another heated kiss. Your fingers fumbled with the button on his jeans before you found his fully erect member. You pumped it, his hips rocking into your palm as he exhaled a deep groan.

You felt him twitch and knew he was close. “Enough, enough!” Dean barked, slapping your hand away and stepping back. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he panted. “I love a good hand job as much as the next guy, but, baby, I gotta feel you,” he said desperately.

You bit your lower lip as you shimmied out of your skirt, panties, and stockings, tossing them beside you. You reached out for him, drawing him against you. His hands cupped your ass again before sliding them to the back of your thighs. You jumped up, your legs wrapping around his waist. His hands held you steady as he centered himself with your core.

He pushed in slowly, giving you time to adjust to him. A groan escaped his mouth, and you sighed as he bottomed out, his tip meeting your cervix. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he said, leaning his head on your shoulder. Dean pulled out slowly before plunging back in, setting a brisk pace.

You gripped his shoulders, your fingers fisting into his heavy jacket. His manhood dragged across your sweet spot, searing warmth flooding your body. Sweat dripped from Dean’s nose and chin and rivulets ran down your face, creating unsightly trails through your remaining makeup.

You felt your coil tightening and knew you were already on the verge of cumming again. “Not gonna last much longer, babygirl,” Dean said breathlessly, his speed not slowing, but his movements growing sloppy.

“It...it’s okay,” you gasped. “I’m almost there, too.”

Dean snaked his hand between you, his fingers rubbing quick circles over your clit. The floodgates of pleasure ripped open, and your muscles tensed. “Dean!” you cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your body trembling uncontrollably.

“Fuck. Me. Runnin’,” Dean grunted as his hips faltered. He spilled himself inside you, aftershocks milking him for all he was worth.

Your chests were heaving as he pulled himself from your core. He buttoned up his jeans again before taking a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully cleaning you up, his ministrations gentle.

You pulled your skirt back on, and Dean stuffed your ruined panties and his handkerchief back into his pocket. You shivered, suddenly very aware of just how cold it’d become. He took off his jacket, placing it around your shoulders. You smiled gratefully at him as you started making your way back to the Impala.

Dean threw his arm over your shoulder. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear. “What say we get a separate room tonight, and I can really show you what you’ve been missing?”

You giggled as you leaned back, meeting his desirous stare. “That wasn’t proof enough?” you asked, motioning your head behind you.

Dean chuckled, his voice dropping low. “Oh, honey, that was just a taste.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 6 years

Text

Friends can break your heart too

Summary: Being in love with your best friend is such a cliche, but it didn’t stop Y/N from wanting to be with Grayson. She thinks she’s found the perfect night to tell him how she feels, but did she really?

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, swearing

Word count: 2200

“Oh my Gosh, Y/N! Ethan and I just got an invite to walk a red carpet and attend the VMA’s!” Grayson rushed through my doors, gleeful and jumping in front of my bed, taking small jumps with his hands in fists pumping before his face.

I’m quick to drop the book I was very much involved in, deciding my best friend and his happiness is a pressing matter and worthy of celebration. I loved whenever he got excited about something, because he’d get this most intense twinkle in his eye and an awe worthy smile I could never get enough of. The way his entire face lights up and his voice turns pitchy sends my brain on a permanent vacation, allowing my heart to take the wheel. I’m never the type to trust my heart too much, but with Grayson, there wasn’t even a choice. The more time we spent together, the more I knew I’ll fall for him. And I didn’t fight it, despite the knowledge. I wanted to love someone completely, to love him. I was tired of reading about it or seeing it in the movies, prepared to give my heart for the first time ever and he was the only worthy candidate.

Little did I know I’d end up being his best friend, secretly loving every minute of it and searching for a good time to tell him how he makes my heart flutter and knees go weak.

“That’s awesome, dude!” I also have a nasty habit of calling him dude and that needs to stop! I shout, jumping from my bed and into his arms so casually, not doubting he’ll catch me for a single moment. Though he grunts at impact, his arms capture my legs and wrap them around his torso, while I do the same with my arms around his neck, glueing myself to him. He spins us to his left, moving toward the bed in case he gets dizzy.

“Wanna come with?” Grayson offers quietly and my heart stops, my hands pushing against his shoulders to face him.

“With? As in to the event?!” My voice goes higher, legs tightening around him until I cross one foot over the other behind him, my teeth putting pressure on my bottom lip in anticipation.

Grayson nods vehemently, still grinning from ear to ear and I find myself doing the same.

“Isn’t that in like two months? What if you change your mind?” I find myself wondering out loud, making him frown and he leans in, pecking my nose.

“There’s no one as important as you, Y/N. I’d never change my mind.” He says solemnly and I’m inclined to believe him and his beautiful hazel eyes and that damn twinkle that’s brighter than my entire future without him in it.

“Promise?” I ask quietly, only now realizing how close we are. My eyes flicker to his plush bottom lip and an urge to bite it grows inside of me. It’s almost impossible to resist, but I have to. I can’t just attack his face and expect everything to go smoothly.

No.

I have to tell him when the time is right and in this moment, this very second as I feel my breathing turning shallow with desire, I decide VMA’s is the night I’ll do it. He’ll be at an all time high, me by his side during the night...what can go wrong?

Wish I never asked that question.

Not even in my mind.

“No, I have the most exquisite dress and I only had to pay for it with my right kidney as fee. But it’s perfect and I think it will blow his mind.” I giggle, the adrenaline and anxiety of the night coming so fast getting to my head.

James helped glam my face and hair up, but I took care of the dress. I needed something that would make Grayson stop and hypersalivate, to make his heart dance in his chest and his eyes stay on me the entire evening. I needed him to say yes when I tell him how I feel and ask if he feels the same.

“Kitty girl, go put it on and blow my mind first! Hurry!” James rushed me inside my room, tapping him long nails on the door impatiently the entire time. While I did trip once putting it on and I did almost mess up my lipstick and therefore my dress as well, I did manage to put it on.

I stand in front of the mirror, a little unsure if it’s really me in the reflection. With my hair curled and golden flower pins decorating it, the sides pulled back and a few curls framing my face the rest of my hair is freely flowing at the back. My make up is a work of art, but minimal in a way, colours perfectly mashing, my eyes accentuated with just the right amount of flare without it being over the top and the lips look perfectly kissable with a gentle pink lipstick making them seem a little bigger than usual. The dress is long and golden, spreading from the waist down into something I only ever saw queens in period dramas wear. It’s got a lacy cover with glitter and embroidered floral details, the upper part having short sleeves only covering the first six inches from my shoulders down. The back is open as is the chest area, allowing my breasts to take the show without being tacky. I chose open-toe sandals with a four inch heel, a clutch agreeing with the outfit and confidence came naturally with the glam. A pair of golden wing-shaped dangle earrings Grayson gifted me with are perfect with the outfit and I take a deep breath, troubled with what he’ll think when we see each other.

“OH! M! G! I LOOOOVEEEE IT!” James screeches from the door and I cover my ears, giggling.

“He’s totes yours as of tonight and I am SO jealous!” He adds, tearing up a little until I roll my eyes and shake his shoulders.

“You’ll find a man too! Just keep your hands off mine until you do!” I try to keep a straight face when he gives me his best ‘oh, no you didn’t’ face, but we both fail miserably and laugh together while suffering inside over our shared man-crush.

My phone goes off and I realize it’s my time to rush to their place, quickly before I’m late. I know they’re supposed to go soon and I hated not being on time. Though Grayson was clearly excited about the night going well, we didn’t talk much about the day in my bedroom where we barely kept our poise and untangled from each other. But I had a weird feeling in my gut we will get to that tonight.

James decided to drive me, since my ability to drive in these clothes is shot and even though we rushed and broke a few laws, we still found their house empty and neither of them picking up their phone.

“I’ll just take you there directly and we’ll make it! You got the ticket, right? The pass?” James questions, but I feel my happiness slowly disperse and something unsettling take its place.

“No. Uh, Gray does. They got two tickets with a plus one option and I think E. might be taking that girl he’s been dating, Marina, I think. Gray’s my date as we agreed on.” I try to reason with myself and James, realizing it’s all gonna be for nothing if I get there and he’s already inside, his phone forgotten with the screaming crowd and amazing performances.

I just can’t believe they left me behind. Thought he’d at least wait for me... at least for five measly minutes.

“Ok. Don’t panic. We’ll make it. And Grayson will love you. This will happen even if I have to set myself on fire!” James screams, clearly being the only one panicking.

“You watch the Kardashians too much.” I remark, getting a playful slap in return.

However, the block is completely backed up and we can’t even get there on wheels, so I decide to be brave and get out of the car, James shouting after me. More like swearing, but we’ll leave his foul mouth behind.

I move quickly down the street, fans screaming at the entrance. I’m struggling to keep the dress up with my hands, afraid of tripping, but thankfully, I’m there in minutes.

Looking around, I manage to bypass the crowd as they naturally assume I’m there for the carpet and by the grace of God, I stumble into Ethan who is alone for some unexplained reason.

“Oh, thank God you’re here! Thought you went in already!” I say between breaths, holding onto Ethan’s right elbow to steady myself and hopefully stop perspiring by the time cameras get to us.

“Y/N? What’s - why are you here?!” Ethan says in a hushed tone, seemingly upset and I can’t help but frown at him.

“I’m Grayson’s date. I’m supposed to be here. Well not here, but at your house, but I was late and James drove me here and the cars are -” I start rambling and Ethan groans, slapping a hand over his forehead and dragging the palm down his face.

“I’m going to kill him.” He whisper shouts, gritting his teeth and I feel that weird gut feeling again. It’s stirring inside and my heart is getting the acid backlash droplets from the ever growing stirring sped.

“W-why?” I stammer, swallowing thickly and looking around for the man I’m so blindly in love with that I’d follow him into a fire without looking back.

“He’s - uh, he’s brought someone else. He said he told you, but I guess he forgot. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Ethan takes my hands in his and he can tell they’re shaking, almost violently. And I know he can tell, because the next thing I know I’m wrapped in his arms.

“You’re my plus one. Okay? You look absolutely stunning and I’m proud to show my best friend off! C’mon!” Ethan pulls me with him, ignoring my attempts to stop.

“E. stop! Stop! I don’t want to go in!” I force him to stop walking and look at me, pity and anger swimming in his hazel eyes. The same eyes Grayson has, the glint in them being different; it’s there, but the intensity, the colour of it is different somehow.

“Ethan!” Grayson comes up from behind him, his hand clutching his right shoulder and his eyes looking to him first before moving over to me. His eyes quickly flicker to Ethan before settling on me once more, looking me up and down slowly as his jaw unhinges and his lips part, opening his mouth widely as I hoped he would at the look of me.

“Y/N?! What are y - oh, God! I’m an asshole. I’m such an asshole!” He repeats, eyes wide and I gulp, swallowing tears as I feign a smile and nod.

“No one is as important as me, huh? You promise, huh?” I throw his words back at him, struggling to keep my voice calm as emotions of my first heartbreak overwhelm me.

“You don’t understand. I met Sara last week and we clicked. I really think she might be the one! I’m so sorry I forgot to tell you about this change, but Marina couldn’t come so you can still wow people with that amazing look on Ethan’s arm?” Grayson’s trying to smooth things over because otherwise he’d be the bad guy and he can’t handle it. He can’t handle screwing up as royally as he did and he needs me to let him off the hook. He’s pleading for me to take what I’m offered and just go with the flow so he doesn’t feel shitty. The thing is, he doesn’t seem to know, seem to care how my heart feels. Even if I wasn’t completely, head over heels in love with him, this would still hurt like a bitch and I’d still feel like I don’t matter to him. Because that’s what he showed tonight. That I don’t matter to him. That I’m not enough.

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” I tell him bitterly, swallowing a few other choice words before turning to Ethan.

“Thank you for caring, but I’ll be leaving now.” I pick up my dress and turn to leave, hearing them both asking me to stay.

“Don’t be selfish and ruin their night over a mix up.” A female voice joins the argument and I stop, tensing up and turn to see her in all her glory. And she is show-stopping gorgeous, the model type Grayson seems to go for every damn time.

Every.

Damn.

Time.

“I understand perfectly.” I repeat my previous statement and dash out of there, rushing back from where I came from before someone sees my tears ruining everything James worked so hard for.

I spent my time wishing to feel the love I’ve seen in books and movies, completely forgetting there’s another side to that coin. Sometimes the girl doesn’t get the boy. Sometimes it ends in tears and heartbreak. Now all I’m wishing for is to not feel anything at all.

Part 2

Tags: @xalayx @heeydolan @accalialionheart @fallinginlove-16

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan x y/n #grayson dolan imagine #dolan twins #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan

440 notes · View notes

crashdevlin · 6 years

Text

Plus One

Author’s Note: Written for @spnfanficpond Galentine’s Day for @coffee-obsessed-writer It’s a day early, girl, so treat yo self

Also written for @spnkinkbingo, filling my Meet Cute square

Summary: When y/n is forced to learn to dance for her ex’s wedding, she meets a certain green-eyed man whose brother thinks he doesn’t have any rhythm.

Pairing(s): Dean X bisexual!Reader, Past OFC x Reader

Word Count: 4772

Warnings: ballroom dancing, fluffiness, bad flirting, little bit of dirty talk, 18+ HERE BE SEX DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!! protected sex, oral sex (fem rec), fingering,

Wanna enhance your fanfic experience? Get Dean’s hydrosol from @scentsfromthebunker

You grimaced as you walked into the large open room with the mirrored walls. You were the only one in the room below the age of sixty. You didn’t want to be there. You wanted to walk out, entry fee be damned, but you had to learn or you were going to make a fool of yourself. Probably do that, anyway.

You sat on a bench in the far corner and waited for the instructor to show up. You were picking at your cuticles when the door opened and the most handsome man you’d ever seen walked in. You thought he might be the instructor for a moment, as he was about your age which put him a good twenty years younger than anyone else taking the class, but he surveyed the room and then moved to lean against the non-mirrored wall near the door. He crossed his arms over his chest and you couldn’t help but notice the way his biceps bulged under his plain black tee. Your eyes flicked to his left hand and you were happy to see there wasn’t a ring there, but you didn’t let your hopes up. He could be here to learn for his wedding.

The instructor was a woman who must’ve been in her seventies and she looked like she’d smell like the inside of a craft store. When she told everyone to pair up, the handsome man made a beeline for you, which made you smile. “You already got a dance partner, sweetheart?” His voice was deep, his eyes a brilliant green and you found yourself frozen for a moment as you wondered how this man was a real human being.

“Uh, no. I’m a solo.”

“Not anymore, you’re not. I’m Dean.” He offered you his hand, which seemed huge.

“Y/n,” you said, standing and taking the hand. Yeah, it was huge and you could feel calluses on his fingertips when they brushed your wrist.

“Go ahead and take a few minutes to get to know your partners. We’ll start on basics of stance in five minutes,” Mrs. Philips said.

You smiled, nervously, up at Dean. “So, we, uh, appear to be on the younger end of the spectrum in this classroom.”

“Well, thanks for sayin’ I look young.” He flashed a brilliant smile full of perfect teeth. “So, y/n, what brings you to an intro ballroom dance class?”

You really liked the sound of your name on his lips. “You first, Dean.”

He chuckled, hands going into his pants pockets. “My brother’s taking an introductory painting class with our… with this kid we take care of. He saw they were offering the dance course and signed me up without asking me, because he says that I have no rhythm.” He shook his head like he disagreed. “Your turn, y/n.”

You stalled for a minute, wondering if you should be completely honest with the stranger or alter it to avoid issue. The earnest look on his face made you decide on honesty. “My ex-girlfriend is getting married next month.”

You could swear his face fell a little at that. “Oh?”

“Yeah, and I was the complete idiot who made good on the whole ‘We can still be friends’ part of the breakup, so I'm now Bridesmaid Number Three and she's made it clear that I'm expected to participate in all aspects of the wedding, including this ridiculous and awkward choreographed ballroom dance between the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Guess she forgot that I can't dance.”

Dean scoffed. “Wow. Sounds like a high-maintenance bitch.”

You laughed. “Yeah, well, the guy she cheated on me with is a major league asshole, so they're a match made in Hell.”

Questions filled Dean's green eyes. “Oh, so she's not a-”

You cut him off before he could say the ‘L’ word. “Nah. Unapologetic bisexuals, the both of us. Just, one of us thought they needed to have a girlfriend and a boyfriend and the other knew what ‘exclusive’ means.”

“Wow. If you don't mind me asking, why are you still friends with this bitch? I'd’ve cut her off a long time ago.”

You shrugged, looking past Dean to Mrs. Phillips, who was doing the rounds meeting the new students. “Started out that I genuinely didn't want to lose her and now it's more obligation. The LGBT community here in Kansas is a little exclusionary. They tend to ignore anything beyond the first two letters.”

“Didn’t know there was so much gatekeeping around that shit. Learn something new every day,” he said, smirking. “And you'd think they'd know about the Kinsey Scale.”

You laughed. “Not what I was expecting you to say.”

“Good evening! I'm Mrs. Phillips, what are your names, dears?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Well, welcome, welcome, we'll be starting momentarily.”

Dean watched as the woman walked away before turning back to you. “She smell like cinnamon sticks and moth balls, to you?”

You snickered under your breath. “It's weird because that's exactly what she looks like she smells like!”

You enjoyed easy conversation with the man… until it came time to embrace and work on your positioning. He took your right hand in his left and set his right hand on your back, just under your shoulder blade. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You tried to look away from him, but his green eyes kept calling to you. There was no conversation after that. You were little better than mute for the entirety of the time his hands were on you.

When the class ended, he smiled as he stepped back from you. “Will you be here on Thursday?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. I’ll try to be here, too. Wouldn’t wanna leave you without a partner.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks, every Monday and Thursday was spent in deep anticipation of the night class. Dean had only missed one class, the third Thursday, and he’d showed up on Monday with a face full of healing bruises and an apology on those full lips.

“You don’t need to apologize, Dean. I mean, you obviously had some sort of accident… or maybe you got in a bar fight?” you asked, gesturing at his face.

He laughed. “Uh, yeah, something like that. I still wanted to be here, though.”

You smiled as you took up a waltz with him. “Your brother’s wrong, by the way. You’ve got all kinds of rhythm.”

“Ah, I’m glad he was wrong in this instance. Never woulda met you if he hadn’t signed me up.”

“This might be…” You looked down, blushing. You couldn’t ask this question if you were looking in those damn eyes. “This might be a big ask, but did you maybe want to be my Plus One for Debbie’s wedding?”

“When is it?”

You ventured a look at his face. He was smiling and it made you bite your lip. “Valentine’s Day. How cliche, right?”

“Sure, I’d love to be your Valentine,” he said with a cocky smirk.

“You got a suit to wear? ‘Cause as much as I love the plaid look, I think Deb would probably throw a fit if someone showed up in something less than her rigorous dress code.”

“Have I mentioned that your ex sounds like a high-maintenance bitch?” he asked with a chuckle. “Yeah, I got a few suits. Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll have to give you my number after class, so we can coordinate. Where’s the wedding?”

“Kansas City. Not too far.”

“That’s good. ‘Cause I don’t fly and if it were a destination thing, we’d have to plan some extra travel time.”

You smiled. “You’re afraid of airplanes?”

“They’re flying deathtraps. I don’t know why everybody is so shocked when I say I’m scared of ‘em.”

You looked up into his bruised and battered face. “Because you aren’t afraid of whatever did that to your face? You’re big and strong and don’t seem like the type to piss his pants over being stuck in a metal tube 30,000 feet… you know what, that does sound scary.”

He smirked. “See? S’why I drive every damn place.” He adjusted his grip on your hand. “You think I’m big and strong?”

“And funny and handsome and oh, my god, I’m totally not flirting with you, I promise,” you said, your cheeks heating up as you looked down.

“Well, if you were, you’d be doing okay at it.”

You bit your lip and looked up again. He really was unnaturally handsome, even covered in bruises. “Is that face gonna be healed before Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah. I got a friend who used to be a faith healer. He can get rid of these like magic.”

You laughed. “He used to be a faith healer?”

“Yeah. Other stuff became more important, but he still pulls out the mojo for me and my brother and Jack. The family, ya know?” He laughed. “You look so skeptical!”

“Look, this might be the Bible Belt, Dean, but not everyone believes so deeply.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the difference here. I know what Cas does works. Anyway… you don’t have to worry about it, y/n. I’ll be handsome again by Valentine’s,” he said with a wink that made you shiver.

“It’s completely unfair, Dean Winchester, that you’re so handsome while black and blue.”

“Oh, am I?” He smirked at you as you lost your footing and he had to shuffle not to step on you.

“Yes, you are. Distractingly so.”

“Well, you’ll have to work on that unless you wanna make an ass of yourself at Debbie’s wedding.”

You laughed. “Well, either way I win, Dean, because my date to her wedding is gonna be a lot hotter than hers.”

He laughed again and everything seemed a little bit brighter in the wake of that sound.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Dean met at the cheap motel you’d agreed to stay in. Rooms 14 and 15 to make things easy on the both of you. You spent two hours on your hair, another ninety minutes on your makeup. You could hear Dean watching what sounded like Scooby Doo in his room, yelling at Fred for being a ‘cheating douchebag’.

When you stepped out of the room in your lavender bridesmaid dress, you felt awkward and anxious. For some reason, it felt like you were going to your first school dance or something. Taking Dean to this wedding seemed to regress you back a couple decades. You knocked on his door, heard the television turn off as he got up to greet you. You gasped when the door opened to reveal him.

He was wearing a dark grey suit with a shiny patterned grey tie. He had a long black coat over it and he had his hair gelled up. He looked amazing. “Wow,” you both said, simultaneously, then both smiled a bit nervously.

“Purple is definitely a good color on you, sweetheart,” he continued, letting his eyes run down your body.

You chuckled, smoothing your hand down the front of the dress. “It’s technically ‘lavender’. She was very specific on the color of purple. But… thank you. You look breathtaking, as always.”

“I take your breath away?”

“Why do you always make me question what comes out of my mouth?” you asked, shaking your head as he stepped out of the room and secured the door behind him. “I’m certain that I’m not saying anything bad but then you smirk and you make it seem like I’m flirting poorly and you think that’s hilarious.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s hilarious. I think it’s adorable,” he said, opening the passenger side door of his Chevy and helping you in.

He drove you to the wedding venue, a hotel with a beautiful outdoor area specifically designed for weddings. You were certain it was extremely expensive. Debbie was screaming in the bridal suite. You could hear it as you approached. You sighed, turning to Dean. “You should go get a seat. Hope your phone is fully charged. We’re probably gonna be a while.”

He nodded, pulling his headphones and cell phone out of his coat pocket. “Good luck with Bridezilla.”

Debbie was screaming about bobby pins. Apparently, whoever brought the pins had brought blond ones, not brown ones. It was a huge deal. As was the fact that there was only Diet Coke, not regular, and that there weren’t any electrical outlets next to the plush chair she wanted to sit in while she got her hair done. You found yourself wondering what you saw in that woman as you retrieved an extension cord and plugged a power strip into it.

“So, who’s your date? Did you bring a date? Because you’re paying for the steak plate if you RSVP’d for someone who doesn’t exist,” she bitched as the stylist pulled at her hair.

“He exists. He’s outside right now. And he wants some damn steak.”

“Who is he?”

“His name is Dean. I met him at the Rec Center in Lebanon.”

“And? What do you know about him?”

“About as much as you knew about Spencer when you started dating him. I know his name, I know his brother’s name, I know the name of the orphan they adopted when the kid's mother died, I know his best friend's name is Cas. I know he thinks he's funny but his brother thinks he's an idiot.” You shrugged. “I can learn more as the time goes.”

“You barely even know him and you brought him to my wedding?!”

“You barely even knew Spence when you left me for him, so…”

“Oh, don't even start this on my wedding day!”

“You started it,” you argued. “Look, I'm not trying to start a fight with you. Just don't judge Dean when you haven't even met him.”

“He better be amazing.”

That you managed to make it through Debbie getting ready to walk down the aisle without you or one of the other bridesmaids bashing her over the head with that vase of long-stemmed roses she kept bragging about, was a miracle. You were beyond relieved when it came time to grab your small bouquet of tiny purple daisies and walk the aisle. You smiled at Dean as you passed him, and he pulled his headphones and gave a small wave.

“Whoa. That's your date?” the Maid of Honor, Brittany, whispered. “I gotta hang out at the Rec Center more often. Wow!”

“You said he has a brother?” the other bridesmaid, Amber, asked.

“Yeah, but I haven't met him, yet. He might be a troll. I don't know. I'll let you know.”

The groomsmen looked all right in their black tuxes, but your eyes kept gravitating toward Dean in his suit. Even as the crowd turned to watch Debbie walk down the aisle in her dress with the mile-long train, her breasts on display with her sweetheart bodice, your eyes were stuck on him… and he was looking at you. “Well, damn, looks like we might be at another wedding this time next year. Someone’s givin’ you the moon eyes,” Amber said.

“Shut up,” you whispered, fiercely. Debbie was halfway down the aisle, if she heard anyone talking about anything other than her on her big day, she’d flip out. You zoned out when Debbie got to the altar. Spencer’s vows were ripped off from Cory from Boy Meets World and you seemed to be the only one who noticed. Debbie’s vows boiled down to ‘you made my life better with all the stuff you’ve given me’ and you had to literally fight back a yawn. When they kissed, you gave a little golf clap. “Can we eat now?” you whispered as the newlyweds ran down the aisle toward the reception hall together, laughing happily.

“Pictures,” Brittany said, rolling her eyes. “Then food. I gotta go help.”

Dean approached as you followed Brittany toward the reception hall. “Well, that was…”

“You don’t have to say it, Dean.”

“You know the groom stole his vows from a TGI Friday show, right?”

You snorted. “I thought I was the only one who noticed!”

“As soon as he said, ‘Ever since I was young, I never understood anything about the world’ I knew it. I used to watch the hell outta some Boy Meets World. Topanga was hot as fuck.”

“She still is! Did you see the sequel series they did? About the Matthews kids? She’s still super hot. Lawyer-milf in a skirt suit, yes please.” Dean put his arm around your shoulders as you followed a line toward the reception. You liked the warmth and leaned into him. “So, she’s gonna do her sunset pictures with Cory Matthews and then they’re going to do their first dance. Then there’s the first round of toasts, gonna be from Debbie and from Spencer’s dad. Then we get to eat. I’m starving.”

“You should’ve said. I’ve got a bag of M&M’s in my pocket.”

“Thanks, but we’ve got steak waiting for us.”

“And when do you gotta dance? And which one of those douchebags do you have to dance with?”

“After dinner and after Brittany and Mark do their toasts. Instead of the usual Daddy/Daughter dance, Debbie decided that the bridal party need to dance, instead. So, I get to dance with Jeff. Jeff’s the one that looks like Shaggy.”

“Oh, the goateed one.” You nodded. “Okay. Well, when they open the dance floor up, you and me can show ‘em what Mrs. Phillips has taught us.”

You laughed as he pulled away to pull out your seat at the round table closest to the long high-set table that Debbie, Spencer, Mark, Brittany and Spencer’s parents were going to be sitting. “If they play anymore waltzes after we get done with the Maids and Men dance, I’ll definitely show off with you, Dean,” you said as he pushed your chair in for you.

“I’m gonna request it,” he teased, sitting in the chair next to you.

“Oh, hush.” You leaned your head on his shoulder as the rest of the wedding guests poured into the hall and took their places at their designated tables. About fifteen minutes later, Debbie and Spencer entered. They immediately went into their first dance, two minutes of ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perri. “A song from Twilight. Really?” you whispered to Dean who chuckled.

“Why do you know that song is from Twilight?”

“Because Debbie’s Team Jacob and it was impossible to avoid when we were dating. I know things about that series I never wanted to know,” you answered, watching Debbie try to dance with that train behind her. Spencer tripped on it twice in the two minute song.

The welcome toasts were mostly just Debbie patting herself on the back for being so beautiful and getting a man who could pay for the wedding she always wanted and Spencer patting himself on the back for marrying a chick as ‘freaky’ as Debbie. The steak was well-done, because obviously no one knows how to cook a damn steak, and the baked potato was wrinkly and dry.

But Dean made things better. He joked through the dinner, kept his arm across the back of your chair so that you knew he was there, and gave quiet commentary as Mark and Brittany gave their toasts. He gave rapt attention as the bridesmaids and groomsmen all stood and walked to the middle of the dance floor. You matched up with Jeff, took your stance and waited for the music. You were nervous but as soon as ‘Once Upon a December’ came on, you let your mind go back to Dean holding you as the crazy old lady taught you how to dance.

Jeff was supposed to lead, but you ended up leading him around the dance floor and two and a half minutes later, all three bridesmaids were folded on the floor in an artful dance pose. You hated it, but you smiled at Debbie’s guests and let Jeff help you up. “That was…” Dean started as you sat down. He looked around before leaning closer to you. “Pretentious bullshit. Debbie choreograph that?”

You nodded, chuckling. “She’s a big Disnerd. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Anastasia isn’t Disney,” you whispered as Debbie and Spencer got up to cut the cake. They smashed the pastry into each other’s mouths, then Debbie demanded all the single women to line up behind her for the bouquet toss. You rolled your eyes and went to the back of the crowd. After the pushing and shoving was done and one of Debbie’s twice-divorced aunts had the bouquet in her hands, they opened the dance floor and the DJ turned on some pop music.

You were bouncing happily to some P!NK song when Dean approached with a drink from the bar and handed it to you. “You look like you need a little social lubrication.” You sniffed at the plastic cup and raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s a screwdriver. Who doesn’t like vodka and orange juice?” You laughed and took a drink. “And when the DJ plays my request, we’ll need you a little loose.”

“What request?”

“You’ll see.”

Another four songs of pop and old R&B and an old rock song came on. Dean smiled brightly. “What is this?” you asked as he pulled you from the edge of the dance floor to the middle of it.

“Kashmir. It’s got three-four time,” he explained, wrapping his arm around you and taking your hand in his.

“The drums are in four-four, though.”

“Just listen to the guitar, then.” As Led Zeppelin played, you didn’t listen much. You focused on letting your body be led by his, the way he held you to him and spun you around the dance floor. You focused on his eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners when he smiled as brightly as he was smiling. You focused on those perfect teeth in that smile and the freckles across his cheekbones and, as the song came to the instrumental outro, you focused on those full pink lips crashing into yours.

You dropped his hand, slipping your hands up around his neck to pull him down further into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around you to pull your body harder against his. “Dean,” you whispered when you had to pull away to breathe. “My room or yours?”

“What, Debbie doesn’t have some grand exit planned that you’ve gotta be here for?”

You laughed. “She can run to the limo with one less sparkler lighting her way. She’s a high-maintenance bitch. Get me out of here.”

“Gladly,” he said, grabbing your hand and running for the exit. You were laughing as you swiped your purse off the table on your way out, ignoring the looks from Debbie, Brittany and several of the other guests. You were sure you’d never see most of them again.

Your phone was going off with texts before you even made it to the interstate, Debbie admonishing you for leaving, Brittany cheering you on and Amber just letting you know that Debbie was livid. You left your phone in your purple clutch purse on the seat of his car as he guided you toward his room. “I've got condoms in my bag,” he said, pushing his door open and pulling you in with him.

He made a beeline for his duffel bag and you admired the swell of his ass as he bent over. He pulled out a box of Trojans and set it on the side table as he sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at you. “As good as you look in that dress, y/n, why don't you go ahead and take it off.”

“You first, Dean,” you responded with a smile.

He smirked and stood, pulling his suit jacket off and tossing it at the chair in the corner. His hands went to his tie next, loosening it and pulling it off. As he started unbuttoning his shirt, you got impatient, moving forward and grabbing his belt. He kept removing his shirt, throwing it at the chair and missing as you pulled the button on his slacks. He grabbed your wrists to stop you as you went to unzip his zipper. “Your turn, y/n,” he said as he toed his shoes off. You reached to your right side and pulled your zipper down, letting the dress drop to your feet. “Damn. I’ve been waiting for this since I walked into Mrs. Phillips’ class. Worth the wait.” He dropped his slacks and boxers to the floor at his feet.

You pulled your bra off, tossing it across the room and eagerly slipping your panties down your legs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss, your tongue slipping into his mouth and sliding against his. He grasped your hips and pulled you against him as he fell to the bed. The give-and-take, the taking turns, ended there as Dean took complete control of the situation. His hands groped their way down your body, learning where you were most sensitive and following his hands with his mouth to seek those places out.

To call Dean an enthusiastic lover would be an understatement. You had never had someone so attentive, giving off happy moans as he licked at your folds, praising the taste of you and making sure every move he made was well-received. Your orgasm was a slow build of two of his fingers fucking in and out of you, his tongue lapping at your clit lazily. He was taking his time, not racing to your finish line like every other lover you'd had. When you came, it wasn't an explosion or a tsunami, it was a succession of small waves of pleasure crashing into your nerves one after another until your breath was forced from your lungs.

“Dean,” you called, breathlessly beckoning him up from between your thighs. He crawled up your body, licking his lips. “Fuck me. I want to feel you inside me.”

He smirked as he reached over and grabbed a condom, tearing the foil open and quickly rolling the latex down his length. He pressed his lips to yours as he slotted himself between your legs again. He notched the head of his cock at your entrance and let out a deep groan as he slid in to the base of him. “Jesus, woman. You're fucking tight.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. “Please move,” you whined.

He chuckled as he started to kiss along your jaw. “No patience, y/n?” he whispered in your ear.

“No. No time for patience. Fuck me, Dean. We've waited long enough.”

He slid his hips backward and eased in again, lazily, slowly, taking his time just as he had when he was eating you. “We got all the time in the world, sweetheart. I'm gonna make you cum ‘til you can't fucking move. Then I'm gonna get you back to Lebanon and I'm gonna fuck you some more.”

He started a slow rhythm, swiveling his hips and nibbling and licking at your neck. You met each movement of his hips, your heels in his back working as leverage. That is, until he pulled your legs free of his waist and pressed your knees up into your chest. When he picked up his speed, you squealed and squeezed your eyes closed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you rambled, almost chanting as he fucked you harder. “Dean, oh my god!”

“You almost there, baby?”

“Uh-huh. Y-you?” You opened your eyes and caught his lust-blown green ones.

“Yeah. Wanna get you there first, though.” He brought his right hand down to your hip and swept his thumb across your clit.

Your second orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, a guttural moan pulling from your throat as your vaginal walls clenched and fluttered around his cock. He managed another three thrusts before his hips stuttered and he slammed forward to the hilt, spilling into the condom. He captured your lips again, both of you panting in the afterglow. You both moaned as he pulled his softening cock out of you.

He tied the condom off and threw it in the waste bin before dropping to the bed next to you. You chuckled as you snuggled into his chest. “Your brother really is wrong about you.” You looked up at him with a smile. “You've got amazing rhythm.”

He chuckled and held you close. “Gimme some recovery time and we'll dance again, y/n.”

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108 @mogaruke @flamencodiva @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @pisces-cutie @paintballkid711 @natura1phenomenon @rainbowkisses31 @atc74 @alagalaska

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#cassie writes stuff #spn #spn fanfic #reader-insert #dean/reader #fluff #meet cute #galentine's day

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what-stop-the-presses-rly-means · 5 years

Text

Anonymous

Davey Jacobs x gender neutral reader modern au

Warnings: slight swearing

———————–

I sighed as I doodled little flowers in my notebook. It had only been two hours since my shift started, but it felt like ten. When I applied for this job at the campus library I was thrilled. I would get to work with books, be in a quiet and calming environment, and I could work on homework in my down time. What I had not been prepared for, however, was the sheer amount of boredom I’d be feeling. I did the reading for my classes and got a jumpstart on my research paper. There weren’t many people in the library today so my job was to sit here and wait. Now I just wanted something, anything remotely exciting to happen.

As if some deity had answered my prayers, a familiar boy walked through the front doors. I watched Davey make a beeline over to a shelf, face looking determined. It made me smile. Whenever he was on a mission, it was like nothing else mattered, he focused solely on the task at hand.

I met Davey when I first started working here a couple months ago. He came to the library almost every day for one reason or another. At first it was just offhand comments about the books we were currently reading or whichever classes were kicking our ass. After a while, the conversations lasted a little longer and became a little more personal. (I learned that he is the third generation of his family to go to this school, he’s switched his major four times because he’s so unsure what he wants to do and he’s afraid to let his family down if he picks the wrong one, and that he has a younger brother that he absolutely adores.) And now, even though it hasn’t been said out loud, I would call us friends. Sure, we haven’t talked outside of the library, but that was fine, I liked it this way.

Thinking he’d probably take a while, picking the perfect book, I leaned over my notebook again. This time, as if my hand had a mind of its own, I was doodling hearts all over the paper.

Then a soft voice startled me out of my reverie. “Excuse me, Miss. I’d hate to distract you from the work you’re so incredibly invested in, but I’d like to check out a book.” I looked up at Davey, who gave me the most charming smile, and couldn’t help but smile back.

“What? And actually do my job? Who do you think I am?”

He laughed. “Careful. Draw one too many hearts and someone might accuse you of being in loooove.”

I rolled my eyes. “And wouldn’t you just love that? Is your life so devoid of anything exciting that my possible love interest is entertaining to you?”

“You know very well that both of our lives are devoid of excitement. Why do you think we spend so much time in the library?”

“Rude! I happen to work here. What’s your excuse?” He blushed a little bit.

“Books can be exciting. They’re full of adventure and action. The most incredible stories come from places like this.”

I reached out and patted his shoulder. “That’s all fine and good, but just make sure you don’t use that line on anyone else. They may not appreciate it as much as me,” I laughed.

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, can I check out this book so I can walk away from you and never come back?”

“Oh honey, you could never leave me if you tried. But yes, you can check it out.” He kept his hands behind his back and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Okay, let me guess.” I narrowed my eyes at him and pursed my lips, pretending to think. This was a little game we played every time he selected a book. I guessed correctly about half the time. “I’m gonna guess you picked out a book for AP Literature because you’ve been worried about your grade in that class. Shakespeare, obviously. And I’m gonna go with Romeo and Juliet. You know the story, of course, but you’re gonna spend hours trying to ‘read between the lines’ to fully understand the story before you write your paper.”

He gave me a bewildered look. “How… did you know that?” I leaned back with a satisfied smile.

“Because I know you and you’re not too hard to figure out. Some people like to use the power of seduction to impress people. I like to use the power of deduction.” After a moment, the smile dropped from my face. “And now that I’ve said that out loud I realize how dorky that sounded so I take it back. Also, I saw you walk over to the Shakespeare section so it wasn’t a difficult guess.”

Davey let out an uncharacteristically loud laugh, earning a shush or two from the few people studying. He blushed again and put the copy of Romeo and Juliet on the counter.

“You know, a lesser man would’ve said you cheated. But I’ll give you this one.”

I scanned the book. “Ah, but a greater man wouldn’t have been so predictable to begin with. You know everyone in your class is gonna write about this play, right?”

He put the book in his messenger bag. “Yes, but by the time I’m done I’m going to know the ins and outs of Romeo and Juliet so well, you’ll think Billy Shakespeare wrote the analysis, himself.”

“Well, I hope you’re right. See you tomorrow when you ultimately decide to use a different book.” I wiggled my fingers at him in a wave. He rolled his eyes good naturedly and saluted me.

“Yeah, yeah, see you then.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but the next day was even slower. There were more people in the building, sure, but everyone was doing their own thing. No one wanted to check anything out. To make matters worse, Davey hadn’t come in today. He might be staying away to make a point that I don’t know him that well and that he will stick with the book. But even so, he sometimes came in just to talk.

I needed to calm down. He’s probably busy, like every other student around here. He doesn’t owe me anything. I hadn’t realized just how much I relied on his little visits. It was weird to depend so much on a person that I didn’t even know outside of work. Were there some legitimate feelings there? Maybe. I hadn’t really thought about it. He was just the cute guy that talked to me about our shared interests. And made me laugh. And was really sweet and funny and charming. Oh crap.

Well, it didn’t matter either way. He definitely didn’t feel that way about me. I was just someone he could have a nice conversation with before he left to go on and do bigger and better things. All I do is go to class and sit in this chair, waiting for someone to say more to me than, “I’d like to check this out, please.” He probably had a bunch of genius friends who write novels and discuss politics. They probably have exciting, fulfilling lives day-to-day. What’ve I got?

So it’s settled. In the span of five minutes I’ve discovered new found feelings for my non-friend, and then squashed them down as soon as I knew what they were… And I wonder why all I’ve done since I started college was go to class and then the library.

My shift was almost over so I cleaned up my station and walked over to the book return to put away the last of them before I left. Down at the bottom, underneath a large dictionary, was an envelope.

“What the-? Did someone think this was a mailbox?” I picked it up and turned it over. My breath hitched when I saw my name written on the front. Looking around, as if the sender was still going to be around, I sat back down and opened it. Inside was a nice piece of stationary and the handwriting was neat, as if the person took the time to put some care into writing it:

“O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!

It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night

Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear-

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.

So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows

As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows.

The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand

And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.

Did my heart love till now?

Forswear it, sight,

For ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”

That was it. No explanation, no name, nothing. Were they talking about me? It was obviously addressed to me. This had to be a prank. That’s the only explanation. Some asshole saw me sitting here like some lonely loser and thought they’d have a laugh, seeing me gush over some anonymous love letter.

I was about to get up and throw it away, but I couldn’t. What if, by some small miracle, it was real? What if someone actually quoted this declaration of love to me because they actually like me? Could that happen? In real life?

I carefully folded the paper back into the envelope and placed it in my bag as I got up to leave.

—-

I had read and re-read the note a hundred times since yesterday. I still couldn’t believe someone took the time to write it all out and give it to me. I discovered it was a passage from Romeo and Juliet and my mind immediately went to Davey. But there was no way… right? He barely knows me and besides, he probably has a bunch of intellectual girls knocking down his door to even think about me. No, it couldn’t be him. Could it?

“What are you thinking about so hard?” I jumped a little in my seat.

“Do you make it a habit to sneak up on me at work?”

Davey smirked. “All I do is come to the check-out counter and use my inside voice. It’s not my fault you’re probably harboring some big secrets that make you act guilty.” I narrowed my eyes at him a little, deciphering whether or not he was joking.

“What kind of secret would I be hiding?”

He looked a little taken aback. “Like… you want me to guess? Is this our new game? Okay. Hmm. You’re really an undercover assassin that’s been hired to murder anyone who has a late fee?” I furrowed my brow at him.

“I’m gonna go with no. But good guess.”

“Okay, fine, let’s see. Last I saw you, you were doodling hearts in your notebook. You’ve been daydreaming more often. And you’re dressing in a nicer fashion.” I glanced down at the outfit I spent forever picking out this morning. “I’m gonna go with: You have a crush on someone.” I blushed a little, at which he smirked. “You’re not the only one who’s good at deduction.”

I cleared my throat. “Don’t get too cocky just yet. You’re wrong. Actually, you might be able to help me with something.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the envelope and handed it to him. “This was given to me yesterday. Well, I mean, I found it. What do you think it means?” I watched him open the letter and read it, looking for some kind of… something on his face. When he was done, he looked up at me.

“You mean, like, you want me to translate what it says?”

I gave him a bored look. “No… I looked it up on Google, I know what it says,” I mumbled. “I mean, what does the whole thing mean? Why would someone just give that to me?” He handed it back to me with a small smile.

“I’d say I was half right before. Someone has a crush, but it’s on you.”

I gave him a skeptical look. “How can you be sure? There’s no explanation. Just a few lines from a play.”

“I’m no expert, but if someone wrote on and on about my beauty, albeit through the words of Shakespeare, I wouldn’t take it lightly.”

“Okay, but what do I do about it? It’s not like I can return the favor. I have no idea who they are.”

“Just give it time. Maybe they’ll send more.”

“Oh, wipe that smug look off your face.”

“I will when you stop blushing.” I leaned over and hid my face in my arms. “Oh, don’t be like that. It’s cute, in a way.”

I waved him off without looking up. “Just go away and do whatever Davey’s do when they’re not in the library.”

I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “So, drinking unholy amounts of coffee while nitpicking every paper I write because I’m a perfectionist and ultimately stressing myself out so much that I imagine running away to live in the Shire? I’m not scheduled to do that ‘til six.” I couldn’t help the smile that graced my face.

“Actually, I see you running more toward Hogwarts than anything,” I say, looking up at him.

He smiled. “Then I’d just stress over my magical tests.”

“Hey, at least they’d be about magic, instead of algebra or the history of the printing press.”

“Fun fact about the printing press-“

“And I’m leaving you now!” I got up to put some books away as he laughed behind me.

—-

It’s been over a week since I received the note and I had actually started to forget about it. I had given up the little hope that I had allowed myself to feel that I’d receive any more, after the first couple days. Now the note was lying at the bottom of my desk drawer back in my dorm instead of on me at all times. It was time to stop living in my fantasy world and get back to reality. Though it was ironic to think such things when I spent half my time in the library, surrounded by fantasies and did little to stop myself from daydreaming. But baby steps I guess.

I walked in a few minutes before my shift and saw Katherine, my coworker, talking to her boyfriend.

“Hey now, this is work time, not flirty time,” I laughed as I walked behind the counter to set my stuff down. “Hi, Jack.” The man leaning on the counter tipped his hat at me. Katherine turned to me, smiling.

“Oh, so you’re allowed to flirt with Davey damn near every day, but I can’t talk to my boyfriend?”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Wait. Davey Jacobs? You got the hots for my boy, Davey?” I was in the middle of taking off my jacket and paused, looking over at the two of them.

“Yes, Davey Jacobs. No, I do not have ‘the hots’ for him. He just comes in and we talk.”

Katherine scoffed. “You’re being modest. He only comes in when you’re working- I once even saw him walk in, see it was me behind the counter, and leave- and you guys make googly eyes at each other the entire time.”

Jack’s smirk could cut glass. “Oh, I am gonna give him so much shit for that. That’s adorable! I’ve noticed he’s had more of a spring in his step lately. I left my clothes on the floor the other day and he didn’t even lecture me. He’s got it bad.”

“Okay, you’re both crazy, which means you’re perfect for each other.” I grabbed Katherine by the arm and lifted her out of my chair. “Go off and be crazy together now, and leave me in peace.”

“So you don’t want this letter that was left for you in the book return earlier?” She waved a small envelope with my name on it in front of my face. My eyes widened and I’m ashamed to say I lunged at it. She pulled back, laughing.

“First, admit I’m right, then you can have it. You owe me. It’s been killing me, not opening this all day.”

I sat back. “I’ll admit that you have been right in the past and that your powers of perception are brilliant at times, so it’s no wonder you think that you’re right this time.” Katherine glanced at Jack, who shrugged.

“I think that’s the best you’re gonna get.” She sighed and handed it over. It had the same neat handwriting. I was nervous to open it, especially in front of these two, but my curiosity outweighed any nerves. Just like the first one, this note was written on stationary and folded with care. With trembling hands, I unfolded it:

“But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore.”

“Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places.”

Again, that was it. No signature, no reasoning for the word choice, no trace of who could have sent it. I let out a sigh and looked up at my little audience.

“Well?” Katherine asked, exasperated. I just handed the paper over to them. “A quote from Harry Potter?”

“The Order of the Phoenix,” Jack clarified. We both gave him weird looks. “Hey, I read! What do you think it means?”

I shook my head. “No idea. The first note quoted Shakespeare and now this.”

“Wait, hold up,” Katherine interjected. “This isn’t the first one you’ve gotten?”

“I mean, it’s only the second. They’ve been anonymously placed in the book return.”

Katherine squealed a little. “Oh my god, you have a secret admirer!” A loud “SHHH!” came from behind her. “Oh, shhh yourself!” She turned back to me. “What are you gonna do?”

“There’s nothing I can do! I have no idea who’s sending them.”

“I’ll bet I can hack into the security footage from the camera outside to see who’s been putting things in the return.” Jack and I gave her bewildered looks. “Hey, I can hack!”

“You don’t need to risk expulsion on my behalf. It’s probably better I don’t know.”

“Let me see the note again.” I handed it to Jack. He ran his fingers around the fancy border of the stationary and a wide grin split across his face as he handed it back to me.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. You’re right, we’ll probably never find out. Anyway, we should probably let you get to work. Come on, Katherine.”

“But-“

“Come on.” He put his arm around her and started walking toward the exit. As he opened the door, they almost ran into someone.

“Oh, hey, DAVEY!” he said exaggeratingly loud. “FANCY SEEING YOU HERE!” Davey stared after them as they left. I groaned as I pulled out my notebooks.

“What was that all about? Did Jack say anything to you? Anything weird? I mean, more so than normal?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” I said as I looked down at my history notes that I had no intention of studying. “He’s always been weird, and he’s dragging Katherine down with him.”

Davey chuckled. “Yeah, but they seem happy. Love, however weird, is in the air. Embrace it.”

“Speaking of that…” I hesitated. Should I talk to him about it? He wasn’t too helpful last time, but his heart was in the right place. Screw it. I pulled out the envelope. “Guess who got another anonymous note? I swear, at this point they seem like clues for a scavenger hunt or something.” I handed it to him. He opened it and scanned the words pretty quickly.

“Hmm, not as eloquent as the last one, but still a fairly sweet message. Why do you seem so upset about all of this? Someone has reminisced about your beauty and compared you to the feeling of love. Isn’t that a positive thing?”

“It is. But I’m afraid to fall too deep into this. There are too many variables that could cause a negative outcome. What if they get to know me and I’m not like what they admired from afar? What if they’re wrong for me? What if it’s a creepy old man? What if it’s a prank and I’m falling right into their trap-“ Davey caught my hands that I had been flailing around and held them gingerly.

“Hey, calm down. In order: If they’re admiring you from afar, then they’re just going to be even more enamored by you once they get to know you. If they’re wrong for you, no harm no foul. But it would be their loss. If it’s a creepy old man, just let him down gently. And if that doesn’t work, call the cops. And if it’s a prank, though I doubt anyone would be so cruel, I’ll kick their ass for you.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “I always pegged you as more of the wise wizard than the knight in shining armor. But I’ll take it.”

“Hey, I’m no Dumbledore.” He gestured to the note. “But I’ll take that as a compliment. Anyway, be honest, what do you think of this person?”

I sighed. “I don’t know how to feel about them. How can I feel anything about someone who leaves me quotes from books? I don’t know anything about who they are other than the fact that they read and that they apparently find me appealing.” I laughed. “Which should be enough when I think about it. If I had any less self esteem, I’d be theirs in a heartbeat. I just wish they’d be a little more personal. Put themselves on the page. No, what I really wish is that they’d introduce themselves, but I’ll settle for just a little more personalization. That way I’m not just running through the million questions in my mind about them. I have enough to worry about with classes and studying, I don’t wanna have to worry about this too.”

Davey smiled at me sympathetically. “And you deserve that. If someone cares this much about you, it’s the least they could do.” He squeezed my hands, which were still in his.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

—-

Over the course of the next month I’ve received two more notes. They’re always the same: my name on the envelope, fancy stationary, and a passage of some sort. Nothing else. The third note was by Edgar Allen Poe:

“There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.”

And the fourth was from Through the Looking Glass:

“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently.”

They were all centered around love and beauty. That was the only common theme I could find. I spent countless hours reading them over and over again, trying to find a link between the authors or a hidden message. I found nothing.

It’s been another two weeks since the last note. This time I really started to worry. Was it really a prank? Or did they just lose interest? I shouldn’t get so worked up about a few pieces of paper that really could mean anything. Like I told Davey, I have more important things to worry about.

I was eating lunch under one of the big trees on the quad with a few friends from class. But I was thinking too hard to actually touch any of my food. I turned to the blond boy sitting next to me.

“Race, you’re a guy, right?” Race paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth, as his eyes darted around for a moment.

“Uh, last time I checked.”

I leaned in closer. “So would you say you understand the ins and outs of how guys flirt or try to get attention from someone they like?”

“I guess so.” He set down his sandwich and gave me his full attention. “What’s up? Has a guy been giving you mixed signals? Because if that’s the case, he’s probably not doing it on purpose. We’re not that complicated.”

I laughed a bit at that. “Kinda? Not really mixed, per se, more like not giving enough signals… sorta.” He gave me a questioning look, so I continued. “I’ve been getting anonymous love notes, if you can even call them that. Just nice quotes from books with no other information. What does that mean?”

Race smirked at me. “Ah, Jack did mention that you got yourself a little secret admirer. Now, this is a little out of my wheelhouse ‘cause I’m more of a straightforward kinda guy.”

“Yeah, no kidding. You hit on me the first day of class.”

“Yes, and you shot me down in a very cruel manner while I was vulnerable putting myself out there. I’m still waiting for an apology.”

“All you said was, ‘Nice ass, what’s your name?’ and I told you, ‘I know, and none of your business.’”

“Yet one week later we were friends. So you gotta admit it kind of works.”

I punched his shoulder. “We’re getting off track here. Am I wasting my time hoping that something could come out of this?”

“That depends on how you look at it. From what I can tell, this mystery person is the only one who can pull the strings on this little thing you guys got going. So you can wait for them to grow some balls and reveal themselves and do what you will from there. Or you can take all of this at face value and accept the compliments, let them brighten your day a little, but move on afterwards. Because you’ll drive yourself crazy if you try to get involved. It’s basically just a waiting game at this point.”

I nodded as I took it all in. “Thanks.” He placed a hand on my shoulder.

“No problem.”

“When did you get smart?” He used the same hand to push me over, making me laugh. I pushed him back.

“Hey now, no violence. Save that for someone who really deserves it.” Jack sat down next to us and turned to Race. “Oh, it’s just Racer. Yeah he probably deserves, it. Continue.” Race flipped him off and went back to eating. Jack looked down at the book in my lap.

“Seriously? You’re reading during your lunch hour? Don’t you get enough of that from class and work?”

“Shut up, this is a good one.”

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “You sound just like Davey. You know, he’s been constantly reading. Every time I see him he’s got his nose in some poetry book. Either that, or practicing calligraphy. I swear, he’s an immortal being from the 1800’s or something.”

“Don’t hate. Some people happen to like the arts. It’s no different than you and your painting.”

He gasped and put his hand on his chest dramatically. “How dare you compare my favorite pastime with your nerdy nonsense! I am not one of you!”

I scoffed and looked back down at my book. “Yeah and you also read Harry Potter so you’re not far from it.”

“Circling back to what I said earlier, go back to beating each other up. You both deserve it.”

—-

It had been a long day. I was ready to go home and sleep for as long as possible before I had to get back up and do this all over again. It was just one of those days. I haven’t talked to Davey in forever because he was busy with schoolwork, and my other friends seemed busy with their social lives. I only really talked to Katherine, but it was only in passing as we switched shifts. But that’s how things go, I guess.

I was about to head out as I heard a faint thud come from behind me. Something was dropped into the return, but it was lighter than a book.

“No… It can’t be…” I peered inside and, lo and behold, there was another envelope. I gently picked it up and read my name. Making a quick decision, I stuffed it into my bag and walked back to my dorm. I’d gotten a bunch of these already, so why was I so nervous to read one now?

I walked in and quickly locked the door. Shucking off my coat and shoes, I sat on my bed and placed the note in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I opened it. Something caught my eye, something new. There was a sticky note on top of the folded note:

“Sorry this took so long. I wanted it to be perfect.” For some reason this made me even more nervous. The mystery person had never spoken directly to me like that before. Willing my hands to stop shaking, I unfolded it:

You don’t notice that you play with your hair when you’re nervous. But I do.

You don’t think people will like you if you talk about books. But I do.

You don’t realize your laugh is the best sound anyone could hear. But I do.

You don’t see how much you’ve changed my life. But I do.

You don’t think anyone notices you. But I do.

You don’t know that you deserve to be loved.

But I do.

I slowly lowered it onto my lap. Did they… did they write this? About me? For me? I had no words. I had said I wanted a little more personalization to these notes, but I never expected this.

My phone buzzed next to me, making me jump. When I saw the caller ID I answered.

“H-Hey, Kath. What’s up?”

“Hey, I don’t have much time, but I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Jack? I’m doing fine. What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to make sure everything is good, see if you’ve gotten any more notes. Did you just so happen to get another note today?”

I furrowed my brow. “Uh, yeah… How did you know that?” I could practically see the giant smile on his face. “Just a guess. I definitely didn’t see a particular person put an envelope in their bag and walk with purpose in the direction of the library earlier. Not at a-“

“JACK KELLY!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear as Katherine screamed. There was shuffling on the other end before I heard Katherine again.

“Sorry about that. He stole my phone when I went to the bathroom. Don’t listen to him.” She paused. “Though I do really hope you are getting something out of those notes. And I hope they reveal themselves soon.”

“What are you guys talking ab-“

“Got to go, bye!” And she hung up. I glanced back down at the poem. The poem written about me. The poem written by someone who seems to know a lot about me. The poem that was incredibly sweet and from the heart. But who wrote it? Who’s been sending these notes? Who cared this much about me?

I thought back on the last month. I went over all the information I had about this situation in my head, including my friends’ weird behavior. And then my jaw dropped.

—-

The next morning I got up bright and early to go back to work. I waved to my other coworker as they left and got settled. I hadn’t been sitting for more than two minutes when Davey walked up to the counter.

“What are you doing here so early? You never come here in the mornings.”

“Hello to you, too. Wow, you haven’t seen me in days and the first thing you do is question why you’re seeing me now? That hurts. You wound me.”

I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Hello, Davey. I’ve missed you. My days were unbearable without you. Please never leave me again,” I said sarcastically.

“Damn straight. But if you must know, other than to see your beautiful smile, I’m here to grab a book before I head to my business lecture. I need something to read while I’m not paying attention.”

“Woah, you’re gonna blatantly, premeditatively ignore a lecture? What’s gotten in to you?”

He gave me a little smug smile. “I don’t know, just learning that there are more important things than worrying about grades.” I gave him a disbelieving look. “…Also, I read ahead in the textbook so I already know everything that’s going to be said.”

“Now, that I believe. What are you checking out?”

“What, you’re not going to guess?” He looked at me expectantly with his hands behind his back.

“Sorry, my head’s been all over the place lately. You win this game for once.”

His smile dropped. “Why’s that?”

I fiddled with my hair for a moment. Huh, I do play with it when I’m nervous. “I got another note from the mystery person. You know how I said I wanted them to be personal?”

“Yeah.”

I looked up at him for a moment, and then just handed it to him. He carefully unfolded it and took his time reading. When he looked up, he seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

“What did you think when you read it?”

“Well, it’s definitely an improvement,” I laughed. “It made me feel special. And it made me feel appreciated and loved. Like I wasn’t just some nerdy student who spends their time reading and doing schoolwork. Like I was someone worth knowing.”

He gave me a small smile. “You seem to really like this person now. Does this mean you’re divorcing me?”

“It’s already been filed. Expect the papers in the mail in 3 to 5 business days.”

Davey clutched his chest dramatically. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to go on without you. Who will give me a hard time when I try to act cool? Who will make fun of me when I get too nerdy?”

I scanned the book he dropped on the counter. “I’m sure Jack will have that covered, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but he’s not you.” I looked up at him. I couldn’t help the blush that spread across my face but I didn’t dare break eye contact. All traces of joking had left his face as we looked into each others’ eyes.

I cleared my throat and held the book out to him. “Here. You’re gonna be late, and you still need to order your morning coffee before you go to class.”

He blinked a couple times. “You think you know me so well.” He accepted the book, making our fingers brush and my heart speed up. “And you kinda do.” He smiled brightly. “See you later.” Giving me his signature salute, he walked outside.

I watched through the window as he opened the cover of the book, eyes widening, followed by a small smile. No doubt reading the note I placed inside:

I thought about what I should write over and over again. I couldn’t decide which book or poem to quote. I wanted to match your eloquence but nothing came to mind. So I’m writing down my current thoughts. We’ve got a lot in common. We both love books, we make the stupidest puns, and we get super stressed when it comes to schoolwork. But we are also both really bad at expressing how we feel straight and outright. So one of us is going to have to break the cycle. Why not me? I really like you, David Jacobs. There, I said it. You don’t need to decode this note, there’s no hidden meaning. So why don’t we cut the crap and skip ahead in the story to the part where we’re finally happy? (Though you can still send me poems. I really do like them.)

Followed by my phone number and a little message at the end: Now THAT’S how you leave a love note!

#davey jacobs #david jacobs #davey jacobs x reader #david jacobs x reader #look! i wrote something!#mine #newsies #anonymous

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the-captains-ayebrows · 6 years

Text

Deal With It (2/2)

Rival Poker Players AU. Emma Swan, poker hustler with more than just card tricks up her sleeve, meets Killian Jones, a fellow gambler, at a shady little casino down south. After a memorable first encounter, they seem to keep finding each other, but are they really ready to gamble with their hearts? Emma just doesn’t know if she can deal with it.

Rating: T for swearing and innuendo, Word Count ~2800 (this chapter)

[AO3 link] [Chapter 1]

A/N:This is not where I meant to end the story. I think we can end it here and be ok, but I also have about two more chapters worth of ideas for this AU. So, here's the deal: we'll say this is done for now, and there may be a sequel or bonus material if I ever get around to it.

This chapter is dedicated to @snowbellewells for her beta-ing and encouragement and to @wheres-your-rum for a really great liveblog the other day that made me think maybe I should keep posting things. Thanks guys!

It's not like Emma was looking for Hook. Not really. It's just that it’s kind of hard to avoid someone if you don't know where they are. So, she kept a casual ear open for mentions of his name. Casually. And someone might have casually mentioned in passing that he might be playing in a tournament in Deadwood. Obviously she had to come here and check it out - to make sure her informational sources were accurate. Or something.

It isn't like she's going to let him see her. That would be incredibly counterproductive. She did take the guy for a few grand after all. Not that it didn't kind of serve him right because who the hell keeps that kind of cash on them? But still… better if he never actually sees her. She did the jail thing once. No intentions of going back.

Then again, she has been doing a lot better at the tables since their little encounter. Honestly, at the rate she's winning, she'll have enough money saved up for her entry fee for Vegas a month ahead of time. It's almost like robbing him ( kissing him ) changed her luck for the better. Gamblers are nothing if not superstitious creatures. Maybe, possibly, one more rendezvous and a little bit more good luck will rub off on her. Yep. Luck. That’s what she wants to rub off.

Besides, he was winning last time. That really chaps her ass. Like she told him, she was having an off day. A good run of bad luck. She needs a rematch to settle the score. Take him down a notch. He really is too damn cocky for his own good, all that swagger and smirk. Except that his swaggering, smirking self doesn’t seem to be here.

Emma turns slowly on her bar stool, swirling the teensy plastic sword piercing the olives in her dirty martini and holding in her huff of annoyance as she surveys the gaming tables, once again finding them Hook-free. Hookless? Whatever.

Emma lifts the little sword to her mouth and slides an olive off with her teeth. Maybe her timing is just off. It looks like a few of the tournament tables are on a break between rounds, but she’s getting antsy. Maybe she should down the rest of her drink and head to another casino. She’s wearing her favorite little red dress tonight, the one that hugs every curve. She is here to work after all. It’s not like she wore it for anyone in particular. It’s for the marks. It shouldn’t be hard for her to pick up a few-

“Now be a good girl and play along, because you bloody well owe me.”

Emma nearly chokes on her olive and that’s probably the only thing that keeps her from whirling around and punching Hook in the face. How the fuck did he manage to sneak up on her?

She coughs, clearing the traces of olive from her windpipe, and the hot breath on the shell of her ear turns to a quick peck on the cheek. She’s furious that he got the drop on her, but she doesn’t know what kind of game he’s playing yet, so she reins it in. Hook steps around to face her, a wide, innocent smile curving his lips, though his eyes are deadly serious.

“Darling, so sorry for startling you, but I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I was just telling these nice gentlemen here-” he gestures to the pair of brutes walking up behind him, “that I couldn’t possibly play a hand without my favorite lucky charm.”

Emma gives him a saccharine smile. “Would that be the blue diamonds or purple horseshoes?”

Hook barks out a forced laugh. “Ha! See boys? That’s why I love her. That delightful sense of humor. Now, if you lads will excuse me for a moment, I’ll join you at the table presently.” He claps one of the men on the shoulder and they amble away to take seats at one of the poker tables leaving Emma and Hook alone.

Hook watches them go, making sure they’re settled and not paying attention to him anymore before he turns again to Emma, that familiar smirk back in its rightful place.

Emma's vapid expression falls away, quickly replaced with an annoyed glare. “You’re pretty damn pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

"Careful, sweetheart , they could look our way at any moment," Hook warns with a wicked grin. "And yes, I rather am. Fancy seeing you here. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Panic flashes through her at the question. Oh, you know, just low-key stalking you so I’d never have to see you again which is completely logical and not at all creepy. She hopes he can’t read the real answer on her face, but thankfully he chooses that moment to reach out with his hook and brush a lock of hair back from her shoulder. The easy familiarity of the gesture irritates her - irritation is much easier to deal with than the way his stupid blue eyes are doing things to her stomach - so she deepens her scowl and does what she does best: deflect and distract.

"Oh, no. No. We're not talking about me right now. What kind of scam are you running on the Big and Scary twins?" She gestures subtly with her almost empty drink to Hook's companions. Tall, broad and with matching ginger hair indicating some kind of familial relationship, each man looks as though he could bench press a horse.

"The Stabbington brothers over there - and yes, so help me that's their true surname - seem to think I owe them the opportunity to win back the considerable sum of money that they lost to me over a game of dice."

"Were said dice loaded?”

He cocks an eyebrow and shrugs. “Not that they know of.”

“And this all has what to do with me?" Emma crosses her arms beneath her breasts and doesn’t miss the flicker of his eyes down to her cleavage.

"Well, first of all, I'd like for them to be thinking about your neckline rather than their cards when you come over and kiss me on the neck in a few minutes."

"And then?" Emma didn’t miss the brightening of his expression that she hadn’t outright refused his scheme.

"And then I'd like an extra set of eyes on them to make sure they don't attempt to live up to their name when I win again."

Emma nods. "So you want me to watch your back while they’re watching my front. Got it. And you couldn't have just asked me without scaring the shit out of me first?"

Hook narrows his eyes. "Given the nature of our last encounter, I didn't wish to give you the chance to get away. You do owe me, Swan, and don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second."

Emma fixes him with her most sarcastic smile. "I'd despair if you did." She huffs a sigh. "What if I’m not interested? You don’t really have me in a helping mood right now, pal."

"I suppose I could report you to security and get you banned from every casino in town."

Emma's eyes widen and she lowers her voice to a threatening hiss. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I'm quite daring, love. Don't you doubt that. But…” He pauses, letting his eyes roam over her face, studying her. “I think you are interested, and I'd much rather work with you than against you. I propose a bargain. Simple, really. You help me and I'll give you a cut of whatever I win."

"Half."

"Not a chance. 80-20. My 80, your 20 to be clear."

"Not worth it. 60-40."

Hooks features twist into a tight-lipped grimace of annoyance. "If we stand here arguing, you'll be getting 100% of nothing, as will I. Although I may get the parting gift of a broken limb from our friends over there. I'm already down one appendage, I'd prefer to keep those that remain in top form."

Emma leans back against the bar and slowly sips the last of her cocktail. "Then quit arguing with me and give me 40%."

Hook drops his head in defeat, and Emma beams knowing she’s won. He lifts his eyes to hers again, and she’s sure he’s trying to be all commanding and intense, but she can see a hint of mirth dancing in those baby blues. The bastard is actually looking forward to this.

"Fine. But you'd better earn it, love. I need you to be quite convincing as the adoring girlfriend. Feel free to let your hands wander. Don’t be afraid to, you know, really get into it.”

He says it with a scrunch of his nose that has Emma rolling her eyes, but some traitorous part of her is kind of looking forward to this, too. She’s a gambler for God’s sake, the prospect of a little danger and intrigue fires up her pulse. She hasn’t run a two-person job since…

And just like that the spark fizzles out. Hook seems to notice the change, but doesn’t comment, only cants his head to the side in question. Emma braces herself, her old defenses rising, but he doesn’t ask. He just snaps his own mask back into place, and gives her thigh a squeeze as he leans in close to her. Her heartbeat begins racing again, but this time for a very different reason.

“Now be a good lass buy us another round. My tab’s open, and I��ll have anything with rum."

Emma has to admit to herself (though certainly not to him ) that she really did enjoy their little game. After getting the drinks, she’d gone with his original request and sashayed over the table, bending very deliberately at the waist to set the glasses down. Rather than immediately taking her seat next to Hook, she’d moved behind his chair, leaning down to loosely drape her arms around his neck and letting the fingers of her right hand slide inside the open collar of his shirt. Not too far - just enough so she could feel the increasing thrum of his heartbeat when she nuzzled into his neck and grazed a kiss across the corded muscle of his throat. He’d swallowed hard as she drew back, her nails scratching through the coarse hair on his chest as she retracted her hand. She’d smiled to herself at that, and couldn’t help leaning close one more time to whisper in his ear, “ For luck .”

Watching Hook play without having to be concerned about playing against him was truly educational. His powers of perception impressed her, and the few tells and signals he seemed to miss, she was able to silently communicate to him with a subtle glance, brush of her hand or nudge to his leg. He never ignored her cues, either, trusting her instincts as much as his own. Well, except that one time…

“Why the devil did you make me throw that last hand, Swan? I had them!”

It’s hours later and with several hundred dollar bills tucked into her bra, Emma sits next to Hook at the bar for a celebratory drink.

“I didn’t make you do anything. You chose to fold-”

“After you slid your hand up my leg all the way to my-”

“You said feel free to let my hands wander.”

Hook leans toward her and raises a dark eyebrow in challenge. “And how is a man supposed to concentrate when you’re taking such liberties with him? You knew I would fold.”

Emma leans in as well, propping her elbow on the bar. “I knew you needed to fold. You’d won too many hands. I’d already sweet talked the one with the gold teeth into backing down when he started reaching for the knife in his boot. I didn’t want to have to schmooze the one with the eye-patch, too.”

Hook laughs lightly at that. “You were bloody brilliant, Swan. Those dolts were powerless against you.”

He’s practically beaming at her with something that looks almost like pride, and Emma has no idea what to do with that. She doesn’t know what to do with him at all. He’s her competition, but here they are working together - pretty seamlessly if she’s honest about it. And what’s with all this supportive crap? She’s used to guys wanting something from her, to use her to stroke their ego or their cock. But this guy? She can tell he’s attracted to her, but all this other stuff - the listening to her, the actually seeming impressed with her - it’s confusing and unsettling.

To make matters worse, he’s just as likable, kissable, fuckable, everything- able as she remembered, and lord, has she been remembering. As much as she tries NOT to think about it, their kiss drifts into her mind at the most inopportune times. Like right now.

She takes a sip of her gin and tonic (no more olives for her tonight), and brushes off his compliment. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I saved your ass.”

“Cheers to that.” He raises his glass and she clinks hers against it, but before he drinks, he asks, “How did you know he had a knife in his boot?”

Emma had been waiting for this question and times her answer just as he’s taking his sip of rum. “I was playing footsie with him under the table.”

Hook half chokes on his drink and splutters, “You what?”

Gotcha. Emma shrugs, letting a little of her internal gloating show on her face. “Hey, you told me to keep them distracted. You were no help at all.” She flicks her wrist to backhand him on the shoulder. “You kept antagonizing him! You’re a really shitty damsel in distress, you know that?”

Hook chuckles, rubbing his hook gingerly over the imaginary bruise she’s apparently left on his arm, then leans closer and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Ah, but I make up for it with my many other talents.”

His voice is laden with innuendo, and it’s cheesy as hell, and yet it’s all Emma can do to stop herself from shifting in her seat at the mental images he inspires. She manages to limit her outward physical response to a dramatic eye roll. “Hm. At least you won enough money to make this worthwhile.”

“Aye, that I did. You know, I don’t mean to upset you Emma, but I think we make quite the team.”

Emma stiffens at the word ‘team’, unwanted memories from her past returning for the second time tonight. “I work alone. This was a-”

“One-time thing? I seem to have heard that before.”

Emma ignores him, trying to change the subject. “What were you doing playing absolutely-not-loaded dice with those guys anyway? I thought you were supposed to be here for the poker tournament.”

She sees the change in his expression the second her words register and clenches her glass until her knuckles turn white, cursing herself internally for the slip.

“And how would you know I was entered in the tourney?”

Emma presses on. “Why loaded dice? I thought you never cheated. All that bullshit about good form?”

His brows furrow in offense, and Emma relaxes a little, thinking she’s successfully diverted him again. “I don’t consider good form to be bullshit, Swan, and I never cheat at cards. But... “ and here he gives her a rather pointed look, “some pickings are a bit too easy to pass up.”

“Touche.”

“And speaking of easy pickings…” Hook looks disdainfully at the half-empty glass in his hand. “This swill is hardly worthy of our celebration, but I did happen to appropriate a very fine bottle of top shelf rum from a storage closet round back that someone had thoughtfully left unlocked.”

“Stealing rum? Loaded dice? You really are a pirate.”

Oh, and there’s the smirk, this time with added smolder. “What do you say, Swan? Fancy a nightcap?”

A little thrill runs through her at the prospect. Nope. No way. Definitely not. Terrible idea. “Yeah.” A small smile tilts the corners of her lips. “I mean, we need to keep up our cover act in case those goons are still around. We should at least be seen going upstairs together.” Dammit.

He answers with a dazzling grin and neatly steps down from his bar stool, extending his hooked arm to help her do the same. She grasps the hook and alights from her stool, but for a split second she sees emotion flash behind his eyes, gone before she can decipher it. He seems frozen in place, his face a blank slate. It takes her giving him a little tug with the hand still holding his hook to get him moving.

“Come on, pirate. Show me to the rum.”

#cs ff #captain swan fan fic #captain swan ff #cs modern au #cs rival poker players au #this has been sitting in my drafts FOR EVER #hope ya like it!

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stedes-black-bonnet · 6 years

Text

My Baby Does Me: Chapter 16

POV: John Deacon x reader

Notes: ongoing fic; tag list available; taking requests

Warnings: some steamy as fuck staircase action? Swearing?

Abstract: Don’t you know, honey, that love’s a game?

“You’re sure about this?” John Deacon asked you as he helped you out of his green Mercedes-Benz. Closing the door carefully behind you, he squeezed your hand to make sure you were really paying attention; this was a typical action of his, you were noticing. When he wanted to know for a fact you were hearing him, taking his words in, understanding him, he’d squeeze your hand in some pulsing rhythm known only to him. It was like a Morse code, his own secret way of asking “hey, are you listening? this is important to me.” What you loved most about the simple gesture was that instead of voicing this, he used music. What he couldn’t bring himself to say, what he kept silent, he could give voice to in song. You wondered for the first time if this was something he did in every facet of his life.

“Sure about what?” You asked, squeezing his hand back. It was your way of reminding him you hung on his every word.

“About me coming up with you.” He nodded his head towards your five story walk-up.

This felt like a loaded question, ready to shoot you in the heart if you answered wrongly. You couldn’t deny your inner fear that this was somehow still a dream; you’d go to your apartment and suddenly wake up, having dreamed the whole vivid party and people up in an attempt to not feel alone. Or, you’d send him home, and he’d never return to your life. He’d forget about you, think on your night together fondly, but never attached enough to really seek you out. How much of this could he read on your face, you pondered? You needed to say something; you noticed the silence stretching out in front of you and Deacy like this endless night had, on and on inexplicably so.

“You’re retreating again,” Deacy reminded you, “We promised each other we wouldn’t do that. I know it’ll be challenging for us both, but I can’t read your mind, Y/N.”

“You’re right; I’m sorry.” You said giving him a quick random hug. You needed the instant validation of physical contact beyond what some little hand holding could tell you. His heart was beating fast, as if he had run up those five stories leading to your apartment door. Nerves, you thought. He had them, too. Hidden deep down, maybe, his insecurities were, but there they were. “I’m afraid for this night to end.” You confided.

“How so?” Deacy asked, running his fingers up your neck, to hold your face in his hands. He wanted to make sure you were looking him in the eyes; whether to make sure you were telling the truth, or to help build the foundations of safe sharing that true vulnerability and deep intimacy needed, you weren’t sure. It was probably both, you figured. Thinking back over the night, you knew he was right. He had mentioned during the ride here you hadn’t be very forthcoming all night, and you hadn’t been. Being too afraid to speak your mind when it related to your heart had caused him to question not your interest in him, but perhaps your security of self identity and readiness to enter into a relationship. In a way, you had caused him to question the validity of his own feelings. He was insecure not about you, but about pledging his time, his heart to another person to find them lacking, ill-prepared, and petrified. He wanted, more than anything, a two-way-street, and nothing else would do; in fact, you had yourself pledged to only satisfy any romantic enterprises with reciprocity; you wanted magic, or nothing.

“Y/N,” Deacy said, staring into your olive-colored eyes, “I know we haven’t know each other for a full day yet; there’s nothing you can say to make me turn tail and run. Take a breath with me, and tell me whatever is on your mind.”

You reached up, taking one of his hands in yours, and breathed with him in unison. “I am afraid this was all some wild hallucination; I wasn’t joking when I said I had to keep reminding myself you were here with me. I fear when this night ends, you’ll return to your rock-star ways, and I’ll be here still wondering if it really happened or not.”

“Ridiculous,” He said, using the word you had been thinking all night. “You still have that string I gave you?”

“Yes, I do.” You rummaged around in the hidden pocket of your dress and pulled out the balloon string from earlier. “Though, I’m not quite sure why I have it.”

“Roger popped a balloon he asked me to hold to trick me while he made a getaway when we were playing the game.”

“Oh, which game?” You asked cheekily. “So many games seemed to have happened tonight.”

Deacy chuckled, “Indeed. Here, can I see it?”

You handed him the string. He took your hand and placed it hovering perpendicular in the air in front of you both. He began tying it around your wrist. “Okay, here’s what I can promise you: I may not always be around in person to remind you that I’m in this with you. So, I want you to use this string, as mundane as it is, to remind yourself that tonight happened, that tomorrow will happen, and the day after that will happen--together. When I can’t be here to tell you, use it to remind you it happened, that we’re happening. When you start to doubt, look down and remember how I couldn’t keep my eyes off you before we met, and how I danced across a crowded room to meet you.”

“How you threatened Roger to keep him away from me.”

“Exactly. I’d do it again, too.” Deacy said, wrapping his arms around you, “Though something tells me I won’t have to.”

“Roger and Lydia did seem to hit it off tonight, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” a look crossed his face you couldn’t quite interpret. He sighed, “Freddie and Jim are probably quite pleased with themselves about that.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” You said happy to be held and even happier to hold him. “I never knew they were such matchmakers.”

“Yes, let’s call it a hobby. It sounds nicer than gamblers.” Deacy danced out of your embrace, and kept one of your hands in his; he twirled you around, switching which hand he held of yours with great ease and panache. “Come on, let’s make our way.”

Your building was older, probably built shortly before the war; you were surprised it was still in working order, to be honest. However, you really liked its vintage feel. Something about the history of the building sang to you; it had seen things you hadn’t and if you listened hard enough, maybe it would be able to communicate all of its secrets to you. The once cornflower blue tiles of the lobby were grimy, lacking their original luster; this made you like them even more, if you were being honest. The ceiling was some ornate-looking tin tiling that was probably incredibly cheap, while looking somewhat posh. It was the kind of lobby that never seemed to have enough lighting; it had the ambiance of a noir spy flick, and boy were you a sucker for it. Almost as much of a sucker you were for John Deacon and Queen. You put a hand on the railing of the staircase, walked up a couple steps until you were taller than him, and turned back to Deacy, extending the hand tied with the balloon string.

“All the way up,” You said, waggling your eyebrows at him.

“All the way?” He asked as he looked up past you towards the spirals above.

“All the way. Afraid?” You questioned playfully.

“Never,” He lied. “Though I’m sure we can find a way to make it interesting…” His voice trailed off as he placed a hand on one of your knees, instead of taking your hand. He rubbed the crease in your skin slowly, trying to see if you were ticklish. When you didn’t giggle at the touch, he kept moving his hand up your leg, up the back of your thigh. At his rate, you thought, you’d never make it up the first flight.

Your breathing was increasing with hurried and unexpected excitement. As his hands, both now, reached up past your thighs and traveled around the circumference of your ass, you knew if you didn’t act fast you’d be fucking on this staircase. Though, you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of game this one was; everything was a game to John Deacon, and you knew you wanted to figure it out, to figure him out. You placed your hands over his, reaching behind you. You turned to look at him, and said, “Now, now, now, you’ll have to earn that, John.” You winked at him, and sped up the rest of the flight of stairs. Your heels clacked on the tiles of the staircase, and as you rounded the first corner, you turned back, and saw him pursuing you intently and fast.

“Stop,” he said; not harshly, but definitely with a touch of sophisticated command.

You stopped dead in your tracks, one foot on the next staircase, waiting.

“For every flight we pass, you’ll need to pay a fee.” He said simply.

“A fee?” You asked, instantly getting wetter.

“A fee.”

“And what do you intend to pay me in return?”

“Oh, I think you’ll enjoy your fee sufficiently enough to stand for my payment as well.”

“Oh?” You asked, repeating his quite, confident tone. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“I swear, your virtue will remain intact.” He held up a hand to seal the bargain.

“Oh, my virtue hasn’t been intact for years.”

He smiled knowingly, “I mean we won’t have sex, per your request of the night.”

You nodded, waiting.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while we’re at it, though?”

You didn’t really want to resist him, and with the wetness expanding down your inner thighs, you weren’t so sure you could even convincingly pretend at this point; you wanted him, entirely.

“Do you worst, John Deacon.”

On the top of flight one, he met you, where you waited. He put his arms around the back of your neck to draw you into a kiss. Nothing was slow about this kiss; it was familiar and hungry. You’d starve to death on a diet of his kisses, you thought. You’d never have enough to be full, never get tired of his taste, always long for seconds, thirds, a whole buffet. You could get used to this. Each time he kissed your lips, he carefully, calculatingly bit your bottom lip, before opening his mouth wider until your kisses turned into tongues and moans. However, just as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away.

“My turn,” He said, and started running up the next flight of stairs. Smiling, you pursued him quickly, almost catching up to him, but not quite; it was a straightforward chasing game, and half the fun was in the chase itself.

On the second landing, you pulled him to you by the waistband of his red jeans. He came to you with little resistance. You raised one eyebrow at him, and unbuttoned and unzipped his fly. A fast flash of surprise whipped past his face, and was rapidly erased by the swift entering of your hand into his polka-dot underwear. To say you had been waiting to tease him like this all night was perhaps an understatement to your desires. Semi-hard already, he hardened posthaste. You slowly stroked his cock, shaft to head, while staring him in the eyes. He held your gaze expertly until you were quite certain he couldn’t handle it anymore; Deacy pulled you in for a kiss, which you returned, once, before removing your hand, leaving him unfinished, and with his pants down.

“How’s that for a distraction?” You were both thinking of the string; you turned around and started up the next flight.

“Not fair!” You heard Deacy say from the second story landing.

“Fairness, if I recall, wasn’t promised!” You intoned from above.

John Deacon was impressed, and totally smitten; would it be inappropriate to say so, with one’s dick out, he wondered? He didn’t want to jinx it, so he did up his jeans, tried to silence his pounding erection, and decided to follow you at an all out run. When he found the third story landing, he saw you sitting, legs spread, heels up, waiting for him. Deacy felt like he was suddenly living in Roger’s sex life, for a second, and he reached up to make sure his hair wasn’t suddenly blond and perfect; nope, still auburn and coiled. He and Roger enjoyed sharing stories together. And this encounter felt all too familiar.

“Right,” He said, “Somehow I feel like this is a trap.”

“One of your own making, then; I do believe it is your flight, technically. Do with me what you will…” You threw your head back, smiling, clearly having too much fun in the game.

Deacy moaned in expectation, and quickly met you. He laid down on top of you, snaking his hands up your back, one on the back of your neck and head as he lowered you down. One of his legs was between yours, and with it, he was rubbing vigorously at your clitoral area. Instantly, you couldn’t think of anything of but those motions and his kisses. Currently, he was kissing down your neck, speedily as if he had a mission and time limit in mind. He got to your bra, carefully slid a hand into one of the cups, and excavated the breast within. Noticing your nipple was already hard, he didn’t waste one second: he trailed his tongue around the areola in rhythmic circles, making you shiver and moan. He bit down, and sucked hypnotically at your nipple. He could feel your body tensing up with the constant simulation; you quiet moans, like fire, stirred him to the core; he craved to be inside of you; however, before any resolution could be met, he once more backed away, stood up, and bounded up the stairs.

Pulling yourself together as fast as you could, which wasn’t easy considering how turned on you were, you stood and followed him up towards the forth story landing. Finding him there, he was standing very still, gazing at you with such intensity you could have sworn he was ready to attack you. You wondered who was in control, for you surely were losing control over yourself with joy and excitement. You stood, facing him, giving him as much vigor back as he gave you. Ready for anything. You breathed as one, staring each other down.

Who would break first, you both wondered? He broke first, and you rushed to meet him. Crashing into each other, he pulled you over to the wall, and pinned you there. You took the opportunity to lick up his neck, and slowly bite back down it. Distracting him to such a point he loosened his grasp on you. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a kiss. He placed his hands on your waist, and lifted you up, sliding his hands along your ass and thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. Your bodies were pressed up against each other so tightly, you reckoned light wouldn’t be able to escape through them. The magnetism of your desire would keep everything at bay. Every kiss was a furthering of that contract you had made and every kiss deepened your budding mutual feelings. He was hard against your vagina, and you were rubbing each other into a frenzy powered by pure, basic friction. Friction was sexually underrated, you thought.

You couldn’t wait to make love to him, and yet part of the fun was the waiting. It was part of the game. Deacy felt this in such a copacetic way he didn’t feel the need to voice it; he already knew you were in exacting, devoted agreement. So much so, you lightly pushed him away at the same moment he slowly back away from you. Every touch was a ration, meant to last and stave off any lingering longing.

Hand in hand, you silently ascended the last staircase. At the base of the fifth floor landing, you paused. The tiles here were lilac and saffron; the wallpaper gray and understated. “That’s mine,” You were pointing to 5B. “Two flats to each landing; we were lucky to get into this building; it’s cheaper, so a lot of students try to get in it.” You reached up to an antique lantern, in disrepair, and pulled a key out of it. “We keep a spare here, just in case.” You explained to Deacy. However, before you could use the key, the door began opening on its own.

Roger wore an amused smile; lazily tracing his lips with a finger, he flashed his shockingly blue eyes at Deacy, and said, “Well, if it isn’t our good old-fashioned lover boy.”

Tag List: @obsessedwithrogertaylor @phantom-fangirl-stuff @triggeredpossum @groupiie-love @richiethotzierz @partydulce @sophierobisonartfoundationblr @psychostarkid @teathymewithben @smittyjaws @just-ladyme @botinstqueen @mydogisthebest @little-welsh-wonder @maxjesty @deakysdiscos @yourealegendroger @marvellouspengwing @molethemollie @deakysgirl

#john deacon x reader #john deacon #joe mazzello #roger taylor #ben hardy #bohemian rhapsody #queen x reader

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julia-cross · 5 years

Text

WHO: Julia Cross and Olivia Quinn @livquinn

WHAT: Julia calls Liv for help after Cain’s attack. Aka sadness.

WHEN: Wednesday night, 7/3

OLIVIA

There's nothing quite nerve wracking and gut wrenchingly horrifying as something like this, walking into the home of someone she cares about while her driver watches curiously from the driver's seat, and seeing a broken door and clear signs that someone had broken into Julia's home. But its not until she walks through, not until she sees the first sign of a blood trail, that she feels the chill run down her spine, the feeling that something awful had happened. When she runs after the blood trail and sees Julia on the ground, she feels the overwhelming urge to throw up, and not because of the pool of blood she's currently laying on. "Julia..." She runs, rushes to her side with her phone suddenly in hand, dials 9-1-1 as fast as her shaking fingers allow her to, and sinks to the ground so quickly her knees hit the blood under her. 9-1-1 what's your emergency? She feels like she can't breathe, like she can't say the words fast enough, that she can't give Julia's address quick enough, and when she finally does she lets her phone fall to the ground. "Julia, Julia, Juls... Hey". She can see the slashes on her back, where a whip had clearly broken through her shirt, the marks on her skin, and sign of blunt trauma on the abdomen, on her leg. She can't breathe, she can't think, not even when she pulls Julia in her arms when she manages to turn her over. "Hey, hey -- its me. Look at me, baby look at me". That's when the tears start, that's when the fall down her cheeks as she tries to keep herself together. "You're going to be okay, okay? You'll be fine. You're gonna be fine, I called the paramedics, they're gonna come help you, just stay with me".

JULIA

Cain leaves and Julia reaches on the ground for the phone, the phone she'd been looking for this whole time, that he'd clearly had. She hangs up the 911 call, knowing well how much she doesn't trust anyone in this city to help. Not without a witness. It takes all of her strength but she gathers herself enough to pick the phone up in her hands and press the buttons, ignoring the blood on her fingers that keeps smudging the screen. Julia messages the one person she'd been trying to call for help all along, the one person she knows would be safe, wouldn't let the EMTs overlook her, wouldn't let the cops do it. The one person -- maybe -- who wouldn't think she deserved to bleed out there, on her own kitchen floor, even if Julia isn't totally sure she'd disagree with that sentiment. Once the message is sent, the room starts to spin and Julia loses consciousness, finally giving up, knowing that if anyone can make it okay, Olivia can. It's not until she hears her name that she opens her eyes. It's Olivia's familia voice, tear-filled and watery. With every m ovement of her own body Julia feels like someone's ripping her back open with their bare hands. "Liv..." The moment the words come out, her eyes start to water, panicked and choked sobs returning as fast as they'd left before. "I -- I killed him, Liv. His submissive ... I killed him."

OLIVIA

She doesn't know what's worse, seeing Julia near dead on the ground or hearing those words come out of her mouth. She knows, just by that simple statement, that this had been someone's petty revenge plan and unfortunately, she has a hunch on who could've committed such an atrocity, given the nature of the wounds on Julia's back. Olivia pushes her hair back, trying to keep her awake, trying to keep Julia's eyes on her's. "You didn't kill anyone -- hey, no, who are you talking about? Please tell me it wasn't..." Its the first time she notices her hand is bloodied, where she has her arm around her, trying to keep her sitting until the ambulance got here. Liv continues to fight through the tears, to keep her voice steady -- she doesn't know if its for Julia's sake or her own -- but the last thing Julia needs is for her to break down right now, when she needed someone the most. "Who did this to you, Juls? Tell me, please. Talk to me, keep talking please".

JULIA

"Freddie. Freddie James. It's ... James-Icaro. He -- he was Cain's submissive." The words come out stilted shaky, Julia's still disoriented and crying, and she wants to apologize for the ten thousandth time since Cain walked through her door. "He's dead, Liv -- I killed him. I didn't -- I'm -- " she shakes her head, hands reaching desperately to hold on to Olivia's coat. Julia doesn't need convincing to stay awake. It's all she wants to do, despite her mind telling her maybe it'd be better off if she just was dead, her body fights, the same way it had only wanted to run when Cain was there, instead of fight him, like some distant wounded animal deep in her guts is wounded and terrified and jacked up on survival instinct. "I didn't do anything, Liv" she finally tries again. "I mean I didn't -- I didn't pick a fight or -- I swear."

OLIVIA

She should be keeping her eyes on the door, but they stay on the girl in her arms. "No, hey -- no..." Liv whispers. There has never been more sincerity in her voice than in this moment, with an unmistakable shakiness -- Olivia Quinn is afraid for once, and when she pushes her hand through Julia's hair again, it doesn't take her more than five seconds to realize she's afraid of losing her. She compares the feeling to the day she found out she lost her parents, and how this feels like everyone she opens up to, everyone she loves ends up six feet under. "It wasn't your fault, baby. Not this, not his submissive's death, okay? I know you're going to blame yourself, its what you do, its what you've been doing all this time, but you're not to blame for any of this". With her bloodied hand, she reaches for one of Julia's tightly gripping her shirt, holds her hand in her own, brings it up to her lips to press them against it. "Right now you have to focus on staying alive for me, okay? I'd never ask you to do anything but this one thing. Just this one thing, okay?"

JULIA

Liv's voice helps. It cuts through the spinning in her head and the guilt in her stomach and the pain in the whole rest of her body. Julia tries to breathe, tries to focus, looks Olivia in the eyes and nods. "Okay," she answers, "okay." But she has to press her eyes shut to get the tears out of them, just for a second, and the water runs down her cheeks. "It hurts ... so much, Olivia. I can't -- " It hadn't felt like she could complain at first, not knowing what Cain had said, not with his words echoing in her head about feeing the pain of 27 deaths, not when she knew that this didn't even come close to that.

OLIVIA

"I know.... I know..." She doesn't really know, she's never felt something like that before, and probably because of her stature, because of who she is and what she represents, she never will. In another world where Julia wasn't a switch, this would've never happened. In a world where these labels don't matter, Cain would've never come after her in the first place. It brings back that sick feeling in her stomach and maybe a certain kind of guilt she's never experienced before, and the other, old kind of remorse -- like when she told Liv it was her fault that all those people had died in a bombing when they'd first met. The sound of the ambulance getting closer in the distance only diverts her attention away for a second or two, before she brings their arms down. She brings them over her stomach, both her's and Julia's, with her hand still held in her's, just to keep her close. She's blood stained now, her shirt and her pants and her arms and her face, but it doesn't stop her from leaning down to press her lips to the top of Julia's head and close her eyes. "You're going to be okay. The paramedics will get here and they'll give you something for the pain and they're gonna patch you up, I'm gonna make sure they make the pain go away, okay? I'm never gonna let anything bad happen to you again".

JULIA

It feels safe, despite the pain, despite how scared she feels. Being in Olivia's arms feels safe. So Julia forces herself to stare back at her as long as she can, to hold on to her eyes, to make sure not to look away or her close her own for too long. That part's harder than she wants it to be. She's dizzy and the room smells like blood. But she nods along to her best ability at Olivia's assurances, finally catching the incoming sound of the paramedics, and the way Liv mentions that they're going to take care of her. "Olivia," she says the other girl's name with a hint of desperation in her voice, firm and wishing she could still tug on her shirt and keep her close. "You can't -- You can't let them .. pull anything. They'll try. If the cops come they'll try. You have to -- please don't leave."

OLIVIA

It breaks her heart, because she finally understands where all of Julia's distrust comes from -- distrust in the system, distrust to everyone she comes across, a part of Liv still thinks Julia doesn't trust her wholeheartedly, and she sees this, Julia and her blood all over the floor, and she thinks she finally gets it, she finally knows why. Her voice shakes when she speaks again, and the tears finally roll down her cheeks, what she'd been avoiding in the first. "I won't. I won't let them do anything they're not supposed to, I'm not leaving". She wishes there was more she could do, she wishes she could take her pain -- she wishes she could feel Julia's pain instead, be the one suffering in her place. The world was already unfair as it was, why did this need to happen to her, after everything she'd been through? "I promise, okay? I'm not going to leave your side".

JULIA

Olivia's promise means more than most, more than almost any other promise Julia's ever heard. Because now she needs it. Because now the paramedics are coming and she can feel her strength failing her and her head clouding again. The room around them is fading at the corner of her eyes, and for a brief second, Julia's not afraid. Not this time. And she knows then what the difference is, nodding to Olivia. "I trust you," she answers as quietly and affirming as she can as her vision blurs and she loses sight of Olivia again. "Thanks, Princess."

#thread: olivia quinn -- 004

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yourjughead · 7 years

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Nuts and Bolts

Sweet Pea x reader

Synopsis: You're studying law while your boyfriend gets in trouble with it. Desperate to find some money to afford an engagement ring for you, Sweet Pea seeks help from a Ms.Peabody.

A/N: sorry I haven't posted in ages between Christmas and exams I've been wrecked. I wrote this a little differently than how I'd normally do it. Hope you like the idea and aren't to mad about the execution. Feed back welcomed especially with the new (for me) format. This fic is really long, so long I didn't have enough space to do the Love Chrissy Xx, so love Chrissy Xx. (This is also why some speech towards the end has to be on the same line my apologies)

------------------------------------

“Sweet Pea?” The Serpent woke you, surrounded by books, as he dragged his feet and clicked the door close.

“Oh sorry baby, go back to sleep you have college in the morning” he peeled his wet Serpent jacket from his skin and began changing.

“It's like 4am, did the Serpents really need you this late?” you shoved the law books from the bed.

“Yeah they did, lot more to do lately.” he huffed, collapsing alongside of you, the bed bending slightly more with the new weight. You immediately cuddled up to him, he willingly accepting it. His skin cold from the night instantly warmed.

“what was the job Pea?”

“I'd rather you not know, it'll be easier for you to lie to the police then when they come looking to take me away” he laughed as you playfully hit him into the chest.

“Don't joke about that Pea”

“Well I mean on the brightside our conjugal visits would be pretty great”

“Are they not now? I'm going to be a lawyer, I could get you off” you winked and the your hand slipped up the inside of his shirt, running over the bumps and grooves of his muscular frame. You both met hungrily before Sweet Peas phone buzzed to life, you both groaning at the sound of being interrupted.

“Sorry honey do you mind?” You smiled at him before kissing him and reburying yourself in his chest as he went for his phone.

As if on cue your phone lit to life, Unknown Number decorating the screen, it continued to buzz as texts came flying in.

“Wait yn!” He snatched the phone from your hand and you looked on confused.

“Woah Pea” you laughed before taking it back from his tight grip and reading the texts, your face dropped.

“Sweet Pea…” you looked from the phone to him, sat up and pushed away from him, he also sat up and attempted to move back closer to you.

“Wha-whats wrong yn” every possible scenario running through his head, he reached for your arm and you pulled back.

3 Weeks Earlier ~ Sweet Pea POV

“Okay Fangs I've decided, I'm going to propose”

“Wow no ring, you're not down on one knee, I'm sorry SP but I can't accept” he put one hand on his heart and the other to his head before I shoved him.

“Oh Sweet Pea we can't! We’re only 23! What will our parents say! What about ynn!” He continued to act like the idiot he is as I laughed at him.

“youre right Fangs you're right, I'll have to just settle for yn, I don't deserve you”

“I'm afraid so Pea”

“Don't call me Pea” I looked at him seriously before laughing again.

“So after what? 7 years together you've decided it's time?” He took a drag from his cigarette, the Whyte Wyrm lights glowing behind us.

“Almost 8, in about 3 weeks” I crushed my own cigarette into the gravel.

“That's exciting SP, congrats dude! When you gonna do it?

“Not sure, I guess our anniversary?”

“Yeah sounds just cheesy enough for yn to love it but still mock you for it”

“Hah yeah, I think she'll love it”

“So how are you going to pay for the wedding?”

“Well I mean we won't have to get married right away so there's time to save. We probably won't get married till after yn finishes Law next year at least”

“What about the ring?”

“When did you become a Wedding Planner?” I laughed and he crushed his cigarette next to mine, he then put his hands up in defense.

“Nah man, just wondering, rings are like expensive and we're not exactly making a killing at the garage and she'll probably want a diamond not a bolt”

“Yeah I guess but I'll figure it out. Anyway there's still time, I better get going, she'll be home soon and you know I like to be there. We'll probably come back for a drink later” he smiled before giving a small wave and escaping the chill night back in the bar. Huh, where am I going to get this money, I threw my hands in my pockets and began my walk home but was first interrupted.

“So, SP is marrying the small town Northsider, fairytale”

“What do you want Penny?” I replied harshly to the voice behind me. This witch.

“Nothing nothing, just, yanno, Northsiders do want the big fairytale wedding” she ran her hand across my shoulders before standing in front of me. Snake in the grass.

“And?”

“And like Fangs said, costs a lot of money, a lot of money you don't have” she jabbed her finger into chest. Ugh, hate her. I tried to move passed her but she instantly pushed me back.

“i have money you know SP, I could help you”

“I don't want your help”

“Suit yourself, I'm sure the Northsider will stick around for the nuts and bolts you Gearheads provide” she began sauntering off. I will not bite the bait. I will not bite the bait. I will not bite the bait. Damn it.

“Penny wait” she turned with a smirk. Damn it.

“What's the price?”

“Few favours”

“It's never a few with you”

“It's a simple favour.” Her grin was soul crushing, this is a giant mistake. Yn is worth it.

“What's the favour?”

“Take my niece to a family wedding, might give you ideas for your own” this was the last thing I was expecting her to say and she could easily tell.

“See, easy” this is not going to be easy.

2 Weeks later

It was not easy. It was horrible. Her niece, Annie, was 21 and a mess. I had to lie to yn and tell her I was working late at the garage, hated it. Hated the wedding even more. Loud. Abrasive. Peabody's everywhere. Annie was drunk for most of it and under Penny's instruction I walked her back to her room after. Then had to practically peel her off me. Uncomfortable.

“So time for your next job”

“No Penny I did what I had to” I went to close the trailer door but she jammed her foot before I could.

“Heard you bought a nice ring recently, cost a bunch I'd say? A bunch you don't have” if I could, I'd kill her but the only grave I'm digging is for myself. Fuck.

Present ~ Sweet Pea Pov

“Yn, honey tell me what's wrong” she was already out of the bed, getting dressed, grabbing things and shoving them in a bag.

“What's wrong?!” I crawled me way to the edge of the bed, grabbed the bag from her hands and unpacked while she continued getting dressed.

“What's wrong!?” She shouted back. She never shouts at me...she rarely shouts at me.

“Yeah!”

“Why is someone sending me photos of you and some girl in some hotel room!” She threw the phone at my chest, definitely going to leave a mark. The phone showed me in the hotel room with Annie, when she was hauling me onto the bed. Nothing happened but this made it really look like something did. Fuck Penny, trying to take the only good thing I have from me.

“Yn…” I looked up and she stood over me, nothing but hurt on her face.

“I can explain” I didn't want to have to explain.

“Well?!”

“Emmm” she groaned at me, throwing her head back before grabbing the bag from me again and ripping things from the dresser and her books from the floor.

“Oh and happy anniversary” she hurled a box and narrowly missed my head and then slammed every door of the trailer. Fuck.

I got dressed as fast as possible, grabbed my Serpent jacket before bolting out the door after her, the rain still hammering the aptly named Sunnyside.

“Yn please! Where are you going!?”

“I DON'T KNOW! JUST AWAY FROM YOU!” she continued pounding the pavement outside the fence of the park. I caught up to her easily, the law books weighing her down.

“Listen that was a job for Penny!”

“Excuse me!” She stopped suddenly sending me slamming into her.

“Okay well no that's not what I meant!”

“WELL WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEN?! what do you mean” the sight of her crying hurt me more than anything I could think of. I just grabbed her and pulled her into my chest.

“I needed money and Penny gave it to me, I just needed to take her niece to a wedding and then some other things and then I'd have enough money and her niece just got super drunk but I swear, yn I swear nothing happened, please believe me” I pulled her from my chest to look her right in her beautiful, sad eyes.

“I-I think-i want to believe you Pea...but why did we need money? It's not my college fees I'm on scholarship? Is it the trailer? What is it?”

“Umm” okay okay okay. It's a good sign she said We and not I and she still called me Pea, good signs.Breathing, breathing, breathing, okay, okay, okay and then I dropped down to one knee and pulled the little box from the leather pocket.

“This is what the money was for” I peeled back the lid to reveal the stone I could have never afforded without Penny. The witch. Yn covered her mouth and I was losing confidence.

“Yn Yln, I love you, please please please will you marry me” “No” I'm going to be sick.

“Wh...wha” I just couldn't find my words, my ribcage was collapsing on itself.

“I wont marry you with that ring” she dropped her arms to her sides and bit her lip before pulling me up from my knees.

“I don't understand”

“You take that ring back and get a refund and then take the money back to that witch”

“Bu-but the ring” “I don't care about the ring Pea!”

“But fangs said-” she rolled her eyes and I just realised how stupid I sounded.

“I couldn't care less if you gave me a freaking bolt or something! Just please take back the ring and get away from that woman” “And after I give back the ring….”

“Then I guess I'll have to marry you” her smile was the best possible thing I could see after she gave me a mini heart attack. “You have to have a ring” I began rummaging through my pockets at her protest before pulling out the contents of my pockets. My keys, a button, a bolt and some change. “Emm” I took the bolt and slipped it on her baby finger and she laughed.

“Perfect I love it, except it's super cheesy you're proposing to me on our anniversary, I still love it” I laughed at her and grabbed her tightly around the waist. I adore this girl. I kissed her furiously.

“The Serpent's may have just got a new lawyer”

“Yeah and now you owe me a favor” I raised my eyebrow at her before kissing her.

“You have to carry these books back home...and me home”

"Deal" I adore her.

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meghernandez · 6 years

Photo

Life lately;

My vacation couldn’t be more fulfilling than this. I did a lot of things since I last blogged. I’ve been going out and about, spending the heck out of my savings on hanging out with friends, family, my boyfriend, and buying make up products. Which brings me to another topic (just a quick throwback here), I’ve been scrolling through my archive—as I was wondering if I posted the book that I wrote a few years back— and I saw this anon who messaged me that I was just pretending not to know how to put on make up. I think it was around 2014? And anon, if you’re still reading this, I swear I didn’t know how to put on make up. All I used was Ponds White (??) and that’s it.

So now looking back, I guess I’m quite proud of what I’ve accomplished, thanks to Youtube, I learned how to put on my everyday make up! I could do a tutorial on how I do my daily make up!! If you want to? Hit my inbox if you do, just so I’d know that someone would watch it. Hahaha! (I’m cringing thinking about it)

As I’ve said, I did quite a few things for the past few weeks. Again, here we go with the bullet form with bonus (annoying) titles:

CRABings - Ate at a new seafood resto with my boyfriend. We even filmed a mukbang because I’ve been watching a couple of videos lately and this lead to this day. My craving for seafood was so intense, I’m so glad Karlo is always riding along with my cravings. I can’t say Boiling Crab is better than Shrimp Bucket but they do have a flavor that we like which is garlic butter.

Moving out, finally! - I’ve mentioned in my previous post, just before I enter med school that I moved in my new dorm and I was alone and scared that I might not make it on my own since I can’t cook, do chores without my mom scolding me, and whatnot. But hey, I survived and I can say that I did pretty good on my own. Although, I didn’t like my old dorm, it was small and something that I can’t be proud of. So, this month me and Karlo checked out different places and decided to settle in a dorm which is quite farther away from my school than my old one. I liked the new place better, and it’s worth the price but it’s a little bit more pricier than my last. I don’t think I’ll move out anytime soon, I mean for 3 years (I guess?). Shout out to my boyfriend for being so supportive and for being so strong, carrying my fridge, microwave, mattress, and everything that I can’t even lift.

F.R.I.E.N.D.S - me and my girls had a staycation last June 26, it was a breathe of fresh air from Elineth’s house, hahaha! I laughed all night, got drunk, chitchats, eating, and basically just enjoyed my weekend. Can’t wait to hang out with them again, soon!

Backpacking throughout different fictional worlds - My mind was obviously thirsty for imagination, and my heart was longing the Shadowhunters’ world. I couldn’t be more happy that I jumped back to their world. Lady Midnight was so good! I was putting off reading it for 2 years since I was afraid to be disappointed from my Infernal Devices high, but what came through my mind?? Cassandra Clare never fails to amaze me and break my heart. Such a good story, I swear! I’m currently reading the second book but I stopped since I want to have the hard copy first! And then I found myself reading books that have been collecting dust in my shelf like:

Black Ice by Becca Fitzpatrick

Magnus Chase: Sword of Summer by Rick Riordan

Magnus Chase: Hammer of Thor by Rick Riordan

Lord of Shadows by Cassandra Clare (halfway through)

Glass Sword by Victoria Aveyard

2nd years filled with color - I wouldn’t say much but my boyfriend is worth mentioning for the effort he did to make me feel like a princess, even on cloud 9. Thank you babe and I thank the gods for giving you to me. Happy 2nd Anniversary, my love!

Drinks on me! - I’ve been trying out different things lately, like making iced coffee, milk tea, green tea frappe, and fruit shakes. I’m enjoying it actually, since it’s so easy. Throw random ingredients in a Nutri Bullet and my afternoon is good to go.

Red plate, just 2 plates closer to my dreams - I’m enrolled for the 2nd year in medicine, yaaay! I couldn’t thank my parents enough, for giving me this kind of opportunity to make my dreams into reality, even if my tuition fee is hella expensive (hay). I wish I could help them.

Spending more time with my baby Taylor! I’ll miss him when i come back to my dorm this August :< Although, a side note which is completely unrelated to my pup. I’m a BLINK and I stan Jisoo!!!

Cleaning, organizing, and getting my shit together - Decided to wash my canvas shoes since I realized that my white converse and vans are already gray. Hehe. Plus, I also cleaned my laptop and organized its folders, and my transes for the next sem as well.

That’s it! I’ll blog again this week, I want to post self-portraits if you guys wouldn’t mind (hahaha). Ttyl x

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specialagentsnark · 4 years

Text

Marriage of Convenience - Chapter 2

It’s still Fili Friday! I swear! At least it is where I am. Here is another chapter of my Figrid fic. It can also be found on AO3 if you’d like to read the entire thing all at once. Please leave me some comments. They help support my fragile writer’s ego. Happy reading!

Chapter 2

“Where have you been?” Kili asked when Fili limped his way into their rooms to put his fiddle away and change clothes.

“Up the mountain,” Fili said and went into his room.

“What? Outside?”

“Yes, outside,” Fili said, poking his head out of his bedroom door. He tugged a clean undershirt on and went back to grab a clean tunic. “This morning wasn’t exactly great so I decided to get some fresh air.”

“Was it worth the pain in your leg?”

Fili paused in doing up the laces on his trousers. Was it? The memory of bright grey-green eyes and a sweet voice singing along to his fiddle flashed through his mind. “Yes,” he said, “it was.” He returned his focus to the task of dressing.

Kili appeared in his doorway. “I smell a story,” he said. After taking a look at his older brother’s room, he added, “either that or something in here has started to rot.”

Fili rolled his eyes. “I’ll clean up later,” he said, ignoring the piles of clothes and weapons and other odds and ends laying around. He picked up a pair of boots and sat down to pull them on.

“Well?” Kili asked after a moment. “What happened?”

“Remember Sigrid?”

“The oldest Bardling?”

“She’s not much of a Bardling anymore,” Fili said. “She’s grown. She was hiding on the mountain too. Said suitors are going to start arriving to court her any day.”

“Probably because word about Bard’s upcoming coronation has gotten out with the last few trading expeditions.” Kili carefully stepped over the piles of stuff in his brother’s room and started handing him knives and other weapons from the pile Fili was pulling them from and hiding them on his person.

Fili picked up his twin swords last before heading for their door.

“Fee,” Kili called and tossed something round to his brother. Fili caught it instinctively and groaned.

“Do I have to?” he asked.

“Yep,” Kili said. “You have to be all crown princely,” he said as he grabbed the simple silver circlet that depicted his station as a prince.

“Hate this thing,” Fili growled but dutifully put the gold coronet on his head. “It’s so uncomfortable.”

“Then make a new one or pick a different one. Uncle said you could.”

“Good idea,” Fili turned to head toward the royal treasury.

“Later,” Kili said. “First we have to go watch Dwalin beat up a girl who thinks she’s good enough for Erebor’s crown prince.”

File rolled his eyes. “Oh joy.”

~*~*~

The first of the suitors arrived two days after Sigrid had met Fili on the mountainside. A messenger was sent to their home the day before to warn them and Sigrid spent the evening banging her head against her writing desk, wondering if she should go hide on the mountain again or fake an illness. Seeing her father didn’t help. He looked resigned and upset at the prospect even as he read the missive to her, the corners of his lips tugged down in a frown and his brow furrowed. The hike up the mountain sounded more and more appealing the more time passed. Maybe she’d meet Fili up there.

After spending a horrible portion of her morning being cinched into corsets and all the trappings for such a meeting and having her hair curled, pinned, prodded, and yanked, Sigrid was in a decidedly foul mood. She wanted to just rip out all the finery in her hair and wind it back into her usual braid across the top of her head and bundle the rest at the nape of her neck. She didn’t even want to think about the corset restricting her breathing.

The arrival of her suitor did nothing to help her mood. He stood eye level with her. His clothing was fine. Finer than anything worn by the people of Dale except on the most special of occasions, in rich heavy fabrics unfit for the time of year. A few strands of grey streaked through his frizzing brown hair. She placed him in his mid-thirties at least, if not his forties. He smiled at her upon meeting her but it didn’t reach his eyes. He bowed over her hand and placed a kiss that lingered a little too long.

“My Lady Sigrid,” he intoned and she tried not to wince at the nasal tone to his mid-range voice as it grated on her ears. “Please allow me to inform you of my utmost sincerity in my desire to court you,” he said. That was the politest thing he said the entire day as he squired her around Dale with his manservant and one of the maids following at a respectable distance. They seemed to have a much better time than Sigrid. She spent the rest of the day only half listening to him prattle on about the splendor of his home and how he wouldn’t find anything of such low craftsmanship there, that nothing in Dale was worthy to grace the wealth of his halls. When he finally returned her to her home, Sigrid smiled politely.

“Thank you for a lovely day,” she said, “but I’m afraid it will be our last together. As you made clear, nothing in Dale is worthy in your halls. I’m afraid I would just be out of place there. Better to end things now before any awkwardness can arise.” Before he could process her words, let alone protest, she slammed the door in his face and stalked up the stairs toward her room.

“Sigrid?” Bard called after her.

She poked her head back around the corner at the top of the staircase so she could peer down at him, even as she started yanking pins out of her hair. “I could never be prevailed upon to marry such an arrogant man.”

“Thank the Valar,” Bard sighed. “I would have had to question your sanity if you liked him.”

~*~*~

Two days after that, Sigrid received word that her suitor had left Dale in a huff, telling all that would listen how poor the Lady of Dale’s manners were. Sigrid rolled her eyes but otherwise ignored the report. She went to the market to start making apologies to every merchant for the behavior of the visitor and to assure them that she in no way whatsoever agreed with his snobbish ideas. Most stall owners had just smiled at her apologies, telling her that they knew she did not agree with the man but that they appreciated her efforts. Those that didn’t know her well accepted her apology.

She was just turning to leave the markets again when someone called her. She turned and smiled at the voice. “Prince Fili, Prince Kili.” She curtsied. “What brings you to Dale?”

“Hiding from prospective courtship challenges,” Kili said with a grin. Fili jabbed him in the side with an elbow.

“My sympathies,” Sigrid said, making eye contact briefly with the older brother. “I’ve been dealing with the results of one such myself.”

Fili winced. “Did it go badly then?” he asked.

“I’ve never met a man with poorer manners,” she said, “and I met your uncle at his worst.”

“Not quite his worst,” Fili said, “but close.”

“Would you care to join us?” Kili asked, “or are you busy?” he dodged an elbow from his brother easily, twisting out of the way.

Sigrid smiled. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” she said.

“You wouldn’t be,” Fili admitted. “We really are just wasting time and staying out of Erebor for the day.”

“Then I’d be delighted,” Sigrid said. Fili offered her his arm and she wrapped her hand around his bicep so he could escort her around the market.

“Hey what’s this?” Kili asked after a few minutes of wandering. “Smells delicious.”

“Good afternoon Mistress Baker,” Sigrid said to the vendor of the stall Kili was salivating over. “Could we have three of your best pies?”

“Of course Lady Sigrid,” the woman replied and wrapped up the requested items. Sigrid handed her a few coins and then gave Fili and Kili each one of the deep-fried packets. Kili bit into his with delight and moaned at the taste.

“This is fantastic,” he said after he swallowed, giving the baker a smile. “Gonna have to have Bombur come to beg the recipe off you Mistress Baker.”

“It’s just a simple ham and cheese pie, Master Dwarf. Nothing fancy to be so excited about but I thank ye for yer words.” the woman said demurely.

“It’s still good,” Kili said, eating another bite with gusto. “I’d like to know what you can make that is fancy.”

“Have the Lady bring you around for the midsummer festival,” the woman said, nodding towards Sigrid. “There will be all sorts of fine food for ye then.”

“I’ll just have to do that,” Kili said, winking.

“Come on, Kee,” Fili called as he and Sigrid continued on after nodding to the baker.

“Is he always this excited about food?”

“Only food he likes, so yes.”

Sigrid hid her smile by biting into her own pie

“He’s not wrong about these though,” Fili told her. “They are good.”

“What’s a midsummer festival?” Kili asked, catching up to them.

Sigrid blinked at him. “Dwarves don’t celebrate midsummer?”

The princes shook their heads.

“It’s just a holiday,” she told them. “It’s the longest day of the year so we take the time to enjoy it. There’s food, games, dancing, and lots of vendors come to show off their best wares. I thought the dwarf vendors would know about it by now. I’m pretty sure there are locations set aside for them throughout the city grounds. I’m not sure if any have reserved them yet.”

“If they have it hasn’t made it to our knowledge,” Kili said.

Fili wiped his fingers on his trouser leg after eating the last bite of his pie. “I’ll make sure they’re aware of it. Who should they talk to in order to reserve a spot?”

“Me.”

“You?” Kili asked.

“Yes. I’ve been helping organize the event. I’m in charge of the vendor stalls.”

“I’ll get the word out to the guilds as soon as we get back,” Fili said.

They walked along a little further, chatting about the festival that would occur in three weeks. Sigrid suddenly stopped and motioned toward another stall. “Do you mind?” she asked Fili. “I promised Tilda I’d get her something.” She let go of Fili’s arm and went to speak to the vendor briefly.

“I like her,” Kili said to Fili. “You should court her.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Fili said. “As the heir, I can’t initiate a courtship. Besides, I barely know her and she's just a friend.”

“That rule is useless. Do it anyway.”

“Kee, I can’t.”

“Just do it.”

“I can’t.”

"Do it."

"I can't."

“Can’t, or won’t? Are you afraid Lady Sigrid will say no?”

Fili reached out lighting quick and wrapped his little brother into a headlock. “Let it go, Kee,” he warned. “Just because you found your One and didn’t have to go through all this courting disaster before we retook Erebor, doesn’t mean I don’t have to go through with it.”

“Everything all right?” Sigrid asked as she rejoined them.

Fili tightened his grip a little before releasing Kili. “Yes,” he said, offering his arm again. “Just having a friendly conversation with my little brother.”

“I think I believe that as much as I believe Da when he says he didn’t eat the last of the biscuits.” She slid her hand back around his arm and they set off again to spend the rest of the day wandering the market before Fili and Kili escorted her back home before heading back to the mountain themselves.

~*~*~

The next week, another suitor came to call. He was closer to her age and the most obsequious man she’d ever met, including how Alfrid had acted around the Master of Lake Town. Within the first two hours of his company, Sigrid was looking for any excuse to get rid of the man. It was as they passed the guard post near the town walls and someone called her name that the opportunity presented itself.

“Lady Sigrid!”

She turned, grateful to have someone interrupt the young man escorting her as he spoke words of her beauty that he had obviously rehearsed, probably for a few weeks considering how little feeling he put into the words.

“Captain Smytheson,” she greeted, smiling at the older gentleman dressed in light armor with a sword at his side. “How good it is to see you!”

“And you as well, My Lady. We haven’t seen you here at the Post in a few days. I hope your skills haven’t gotten rusty.”

“Skills?” the suitor asked. Sigrid kicked herself mentally realizing she had completely forgotten his name.

“Aye,” Smytheson said, not caring to wait for introductions. “The lass is quite skilled with a blade. She’s trained with us since we started rebuilding Dale. Why don’t you two come to the grounds and you can see just how good she is?”

Sigrid was about to protest but at the distressed look on her suitor’s face, she decided she would do as Smytheson suggested. “I’d love to,” she said. With no choice, her suitor accompanied her to the training grounds where Sigrid took up a practice sword. She ignored the alarmed noise the young man made when she swung it a few times, checking the balance and heft of the dulled blade.

“I’ll go easy on you My Lady, considering your state of dress and that it’s been a few days since you trained.” Smytheson took his place opposite her on the training ground.

“Your loss then,” Sigrid said as they saluted each other. She danced to the side of Smytheson’s sudden attack, shifting just out of his reach and bringing her own sword around to swat him across the shoulder with the flat of the blade. The captain spun and grinned at her before advancing again, this time more cautiously. The bout only lasted a few minutes longer, ending with Sigrid being disarmed. When Sigrid yielded with a grin, Smytheson lowered his blade and slung an arm around her shoulders.

“Well fought My Lady,” he said.

“Perhaps I am a bit rusty,” Sigrid said.

“I’ll expect you to start coming back to training every day then, shall I?”

“Absolutely,” Sigrid said as she returned her practice blade. She turned to her suitor who was considerably paler than when they’d walked into the guard post’s training yard.

“I do apologize,” the man said, “but I have just realized something that I’d completely forgotten I must attend to. Do forgive me. Will you be all right on your own?”

Sigrid blinked, casting a quick glance at Smytheson before she nodded. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Good day.”

“Good day, Lady Sigrid. I wish you luck in your endeavors.” He turned tail and all but ran from the guard post.

“Well,” Sigrid said to no one in particular. “That was unexpectedly beneficial.”

Smytheson burst out laughing. “My Lady, I think you scared the poor man out of his mind.”

“I haven’t a clue as to how,” she said.

The captain snorted. “The young lord probably can’t stand the idea of his intended being able to best him in a fight.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. Being a woman isn’t going to protect me from an attacker.”

Smytheson nodded. “Very true My Lady. I’ll see you tomorrow for training.”

Sigrid smiled and curtsied to him before heading home. At dinner that evening her father asked about her outing. When she told her what had occurred, he laughed louder than the guard captain had. “Good for you my girl,” he said. “If a man can’t handle having a strong, independent wife that can defend herself, he’s not worthy of you.”

“Thanks, Da,” Sigrid said. “Keep that in mind when I ask you to send them to the training yard to meet me. They can get an idea of my skills before the day even starts and hopefully it’ll save me from a lot of ninnies that can’t handle the idea.”

~*~*~

Fili suffered through four courtship challenges. Luckily, Dwalin had been Thorin’s guard on the days the requests were made so he didn’t have to do anything except be present for the initial meetings. Once the dwarrowdam yielded to Dwalin in combat, they had to leave with no hope of courting him.

The fifth courtship request, however, came when Dwalin was not on duty. Instead, it was one of his admittedly more competent guards but still not as skilled as the Captain himself. The soldier lost the battle.

When the initial Gift was presented, Fili stifled a groan. A crown. Of all the stupid, thoughtless things to be presented with, the simpering dwarrowdam gifted him with a silver crown. The bulky, heavy thing was decorated with garnets and citrines and aquamarine stones. It was a gaudy thing. And the number of precious stones seemed to be an attempt at covering up the fact that the workmanship wasn’t at all up to standards for a royal prince.

“I don’t accept,” he said blandly, tossing the crown back to the herald. “Your workmanship is poor, your choice in stones is ridiculous, and your taste is gaudy. Your choice in gift shows naught but your desire to become part of the royal family and thus displays your lack of honor. I would never consider such a one as seeks my favor only for my position.” He nodded to his uncle who inclined his head in acceptance of his decision before turning and leaving the throne room. He retrieved his fiddle once again and headed up the mountainside.

“Imagine seeing you here.”

Fili looked toward the voice and saw Sigrid once again leaning against the same rock as the one he’d found her at weeks before.

“Hello,” he greeted. “Escaping political woes again?”

Sigrid’s lips quirked up in a half smile. “My last suitor wasn’t shy about voicing his displeasure that I wasn’t a – now how did he put it? Oh yes- a ‘delicate flower of a fair maiden’ and more of a ‘bruiser in a dress.’ I’m hiding from the disapproving looks from my father’s council.”

Fili snorted in laughter before he could stop himself.

“Oh, ha, ha,” Sigrid groused. “What about you? Why are you up here again?” She scooted aside, indicating for him to sit on her laid out jacket with her again.

He did so with a groan, setting his cane and fiddle case next to him as he did so. “Dwalin wasn’t on duty with Uncle today. The dwarrowdam seeking a courtship beat the guard that was on duty. The gift she presented afterward was so ridiculous and in such poor taste and intentions that I turned her down without a second thought. It still wasn’t any fun though. I much prefer when Dwalin is able to beat them before they get anywhere near me.”

Sigrid stared at him, utterly confused. “I get the feeling that courting for your people and courting for mine is a very different matter.”

“I’d rather not think about it,” Sigrid said. She eyed his fiddle case. “I’d rather hear you play again.”

Fili gave a long-suffering sigh but readily pulled out his fiddle. “Any requests?” he asked as he quickly tuned it. Sigrid shook her head. “Then sing ‘The Mermaid’ for me again,” he said and started playing the introduction. Sigrid rolled her eyes good-naturedly and started to sing along.

Fili played for an hour or so with her singing the songs she knew. When he set the fiddle aside, they sat back to stare at the scenery and talk.

Sigrid spoke of her family, of her brother and sister and father. Fili spoke of Kili and Thorin and his mother Dis. He told her parts of the journey from Ered Luin to Erebor. She laughed loudly at his retelling of the troll incident. He smiled as she told him about a time when Bain had tried to draw his father’s bow when the weapon was taller than him and had somehow ended up upside down with his foot stuck in a pot and a bundle of herbs stuck in his hair.

It wasn’t until the sun was setting that they parted ways.

~*~*~

Sigrid’s fourth suitor showed promise. He was her age, well dressed but not too well for an outing in a city such as Dale. He arrived at the time he had designated and his manservant stood a respectful distance away. Most importantly, he didn’t shrink away or run screaming when he saw her training with the guard captain. She should have expected as much from Lord Graham of Rohan, a distant cousin to the current king.

“Good morning, Lady Sigrid,” he greeted her as she set her practice blade aside. “Are you ready to go?”

Sigrid smiled at him. “I’m sorry my training went over long this morning,” she said. “I need to return home for a little before I’m prepared. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he said.

“I’ll be back shortly,” Sigrid said and headed home.

She raced up the stairs to her room to change quickly, the maids meeting her there to help her into the complicated corsets and petticoats and other parts of her dress as her father stood outside her door.

“At least this one didn’t run screaming at the sight of you armed,” he called through the wood, sounding amused.

“He shows more promise than the last three,” she admitted. “He’s the closest to my age as well.”

She heard Bard make a noise of agreement on the other side of the door. She opened it and showed him the dress she’d just been cinched into. “What do you think?” she asked.

“Lovely,” Bard said. “If I didn’t know better, my girl, I’d think you might be trying to impress the man.”

Sigrid made a face. “Not hardly,” she grumbled. “I didn’t pick it out and it’s too tight.” She put a hand to her ribcage and tried to take a deep breath, failing miserably when the corset squeezed. “Remind me again why I have to dress in the height of fashion?”

“I have no idea,” Bard said. “Ask Tilda. She seems to understand these things.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes and left to meet her suitor.

The day passed rather well, she thought. The conversation did not flow easily but it did exist. He asked of her training and the reconstruction of Dale. She asked him of Rohan and the culture there. When he returned her to her door, she felt content, that perhaps she could learn to like the man. If nothing more, she would probably gain a friend in him.

Notes:

The song "The Mermaid" mentioned in this chapter (and hinted at in the last) is sung by Great Big Sea. Check it out if you have time. It's rather fun and amusing.

#my writing #hobbit #the hobbit #Au Everyone lives/nobody dies #Figrid #Fili #Fili Friday #marriage of convenience #angst with a happy ending #unbeta'd #Chapter 2 #finished work #multi-chapter #weekly post #cross-posted #AO3

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